


Redacted Faith

by LyssaTerald



Series: The Liesmith's Fall [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-09 06:21:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyssaTerald/pseuds/LyssaTerald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of death and destruction, Thor and Sigyn leave Asgard behind. As Sigyn tries to make a life for herself an old rival surfaces and stirs up old history. As Thor tries to forget guilt and build a life with Jane, the Avengers call upon him again and SHIELD draws him back into their battles. Together, somehow, they'll find chaos and put him back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Sigyn has always fascinated me as a character and it was rather disappointing to see that Marvel Cinematic just sort of skipped right over her. So, this is my take on introducing her. I'm still new to the Comicverse, but I'm gaining traction so if things don't look or fit quite right let me know and I'll see what I can do about correcting it or explaining my take on something.
> 
> Also, I don't hold a very favorable opinion of Odin as may be reflected in this work or future works.

As the light from the Tesseract faded and they found themselves again on the shattered edge of the Bi-frost, he couldn’t have said that he was _surprised_ she was there waiting for them, silhouetted by the golden light of Asgard’s brilliance. She was wearing a gold and green gown that fit her like a second skin and flowed off her hips to flutter around her ankles and trail behind her. Her dark hair had grown since he had last seen her and there was a thin, new scar that traced a path from her jawline to her collarbone and vanish beneath the neckline of her drew.

Her dark eyes found his first and he could only look away. For once, he was almost grateful for the gag Thor had forced on him. It, at least, spared him from having to say _something._ There were so many things that had been left unsaid, so many things he had _wanted_ to tell her, things he _wanted_  to explain, but he couldn’t-for once-find the words in himself to even begin to phrase them. In the distance, he could see the guards riding hard and fast approaching. Realizing he was still holding the… _thing_ …he released it and let the weight of the Tesseract fall into Thor’s hand.

Thor was frowning at her even before she unclasped her hands and started closing the distance between the three of them. “Sigyn-” he started.

“ _No_ , Thor,” she said sharply. “I’ll not hear you _lie_ again. You told me he was _dead_ and yet here we stand, on the Bi-frost that _both_ of you shattered with _both_ of you present. I’ll not hear what you have to say, not with my _husband_ alive where said he was not. I _mourned_ when I could have been _searching_.” When she turned her hard gaze on him, the color of her irises had shifted to a dark brown that did nothing to soften the look she fixed him with.

“I-” Thor started again, but stopped when she turned her gaze from him and stood before Loki. This was, he realized, not something that he _wanted_ to witness. It was too much a reminder of what had been lost, what could _never_ be again.

Loki fixed his eyes on the guards that were still approaching, but it didn’t discourage her. Her fingers were cooler against his skin than he remembered and, for all that he _didn’t_ want to show weakness in front of Thor, he still flinched from the touch. When her hands slipped to the back of his head, he tried to jerk back but her fingers were too quick. The gag came away in one hand with the movement while she caught the back of his neck with the other and dragged him into a kiss.

For a moment, he could almost _believe_ that everything would be alright, that she wouldn’t _hate_ him for what he had done, for the _genocides_ he had almost committed. Then she drew back a fraction and he could see the hard glint reflected in her eyes and in the lines of her face. She tugged on a lock of his hair and, her breath warm against his lips, said, “Do not make this worse, husband mine. _Please_ do not make this worse.”

“Define worse,” he said before he could stop himself.

The sad smile that touched her lips was not something he had expected. “The _dwarves_. Narvi. Vali. _Fenrir,_ ” she whispered.

His hands clenched into fists around his chains even as he leaned his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. Two sons dead for an attempt to _protect_ Asgard from the schemes of the dwarves and another that had been imprisoned for no more reason than what he _might_ have done in some distant path of a future that would never happen now. All things that had happened because _Odin_ was trying to _keep the peace._ “Alright,” he said softly, for her ears only.

“Thank you,” she returned just as softly and then stepped back as the hooves of the horses rang clear against the remnants of the bridge.  Out of the corner of his eye he watched her _throw_ the gag into the _Void_ and scowl at Thor. It wasn’t much, not by a long shot, but it made him smile a little despite what was waiting for them.

* * *

 

Before everyone, before _Sigyn,_ Odin greeted Thor with praise for returning the Tessaract and _saving another realm._ The suspicious, spiteful, _hateful_ looks that Loki received from his once comrades and the other Asgardians he could bear, he could even _enjoy._ The looks of suspicion, spite, and _hate_ directed at _Sigyn_ , he was gritting his teeth over.

As Thor tugged at the chains and led them closer to their _father,_ he asked, “Tell me, brother, with hundreds of mortals dead, Earth nearly destroyed, and you solely to blame for it all, what will you say for yourself when you face justice?”

_Did you miss me?_ The words were on the tip of his tongue, so _easy_ to toss at them, but _please_ rang through his mind, holding his temper and staying his rage. She was still at his back, a steady presence that had refused the guards _and_ Thor’s directives to _leave._ Instead, he replied, “Nothing. I have nothing to say to you or anyone else.” He didn’t miss the way that Thor’s gaze darted to Sigyn before he turned to his father and knelt.

He locked gazes with Odin and glared at the one that had brought him to _this_ point until Thor yanked the chains and one of the guards kicked his knees out and _made_ him kneel. As his knees hit the stone floor, there was a curse, a _thud_ , and a _yelp_ that had everyone _staring_ and turning their heads to _look at Sigyn_ and the guard whom was now on flat on his back and staring up at the Healer. Loki felt his lips twitch as he realized she must have caught the male off guard and thrown him.

She smoothed her hands down the front of her gown as she straightened and came back to his side, but she made no move to kneel. As the seconds ticked by and stretched into minutes and the court began to fidget nervously, Odin continued to look down at them from his throne until, “ _Sigyn,_ ” Thor hissed. “Kneel.”

Sigyn looked at Thor sidelong and then slowly sank down until she sat on her heels at Loki’s side. Her fingers brushed his wrist and then she looked at Odin expectantly. Loki bowed his head to hide a smirk. Mischief and chaos made flesh _he_ might be, but when the embodiment of _fidelity_ passively refused to obey the proper rules of court then it unsettled most everyone in a way that _he_ never could.

“You have been brought before me today with two attempted genocides and an attempt to kill Thor, heir to the throne of Asgard. What have you to say for yourself?” Odin asked.

“I really don’t see what all the fuss is about,” he bit back. “It’s what _Asgardians_ have done for eons, isn’t it? Ruling the lesser races as _gods_.”

“We are not gods,” Odin returned. “We are born. We live. We bleed. We die.”

He laughed. “Give or take five-thousand years.”

There was a moment of silence in which Odin seemed to consider something. “The boy I knew is _dead_. What remains is a creature I do not recognize,” he said heavily. “For your crimes, you will spend the rest of your wicked days in the dungeons, Loki _Laufeyson._ ” The last brought a stirring of surprise and outrage from the court except for Thor, Sigyn, and the ones he might have once called _friends._ Sigyn’s hand found his and by the grip she took, he could _feel_ the way she was holding onto her temper.

Odin was looking at her and she at him. She rose to her feet and stepped before him. Loki tried to rise, to push her from his side, to keep her from being drawn into this… _this_ , but Thor’s hold on his bonds had only tightened at the way Odin _tossed the truth_ out in front of _everyone_. “I wish to be heard, _All-Father_ ,” she said, clearly enough to cut through the din of renewed shifting and murmuring.

 “Sigyn,” Odin acknowledged. “It is always a welcome sight to see you, but you need not defend this… _creature_ …that you married. You are no longer bound to show loyalty to one such as him after everything he has done.” He wasn’t watching Thor or Odin in that moment. They didn’t matter, not the way _she_ did. If she turned…if she had decided…

 Her shoulders stiffened and he could see the rage in the way that she held herself. “I have given Asgard _everything._ You took from me my throne, my sisters, my _parents_. You took from me the memories I had of my _childhood_. You, _All-Father_ , sacrificed my _twins,_ Narvi and Vali, to thwart a war that happened anyways. You sealed Hela into the realm of the dead when she proved a natural with the tricks and powers of her sire,” Sigyn said, voice steady and quiet yet seeming to fill the entire hall. “You took Fenrir and Sleipnir’s sentient minds and locked them into beast form for a _prophecy_ that **_might have_** taken place _thousands_ of years from now. I have given of my magic, my _body_ , and my _mind_ to keep your people whole of heart and body. I say _no more_. You will not take from me my future! You will not take from me my husband!”

There was a collective silence as the court digested the overload of facts that she had given them. They had, after all, each seen the children that she had spoken of and heard stories, rumors, _tales_ of what fates had befallen each of them. Some snuck quick looks at the Warriors Three, Sif, and even Thor. That the five of them, their proudest warriors, could not meet the Healer’s hard gaze when she turned her eyes to them was almost enough for them to believe.Then, they had only to remember what Odin had protected them from in the past and their worries were smoothed over. No. Odin would not have done those things she accused him of, but so too was she their Healer. For her to believe such things…the Liesmith had to have bespelled her. Yes. That was it. Odin would see through the lie and set right the wrongs and she would continue to use her healing to look after them. It was, after all, her place to do so as a Healer.

“You are set on this, then?” Odin asked. “Would that I choose another sentence, you would join him in it?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Choose another and so long as it leaves us sane and alive and together, I will join him in it. You can do no worse than what you have already done.”

“Sig-” Thor and Loki began together, rising even as she tiled her head.

“One more thing, _All-Father,_ ” she said, ignoring them. “Do not think to strip us of our magic. It would only hasten the coming of Ragnarok.”

Odin met his son’s gaze briefly and what Thor saw there-a deep weariness that went beyond age-made him stop and bite back the protests that had been building, but it did nothing for Loki as he staggered to his feet and stepped towards her. He was white with rage and terror. “You cannot think to include her in this. She is innocent of my misdeeds. Do _not_ bring her into this. I _refuse-_ ”

“Be silent, Laufeyson!” Odin said and Loki could only clutch at his throat as his voice died. “The decision is made, for the lives that you cut short and the crimes you have wrought, _she_ shall live through each of the deaths that your hand inflicted. During that time, the both of you will be placed in adjoining cells where you can only see her. Once the sentence has been served, you and she shall never again darken Asgard’s realm. So let it be.” And thus said, they were taken by the guards and escorted from the throne room.

Thor, for all that he didn’t _want_ to _let go_ , gave his brother’s chains to the guards with only the slightest of hesitations. No drink that night was strong enough to make him forget the _despair_ he had seen in Loki’s eyes. No battle to defend and reclaim the realms in those passing months drove from his mind the knowledge that Loki and Sigyn were in the dungeons living through a very _special_ kind of repentance. Every time Odin called upon her after that to heal those warriors the other Healers and their Soul Forges could not, he saw just a little more of her mind slipping away, fleeing the terror and horror and heartache and _pain_ that living through so many deaths could do to someone like her.

* * *

 

For all that he paced and _watched_ and paused at where their cells touched, he could never reach across the divide and smooth the hair from her face or hold her when the screams caught in her throat or the tears dried on her cheek. _Regret_ was not an emotion he was accustomed to, but it tightened around him as he learned to count the terrors she was put through and pace through the deaths she lived. By his best estimate she would have to live through a grand total of almost five-thousand deaths.

Where some of the prisoners counted the days they had spent in that prison and carved their days into the stone, he counted the hours that she lived through, waited for the terrified scream to catch in her throat and took another off the count for her to endure. For every time that she screamed, he was there, as close as he could _get_ , even if to the other prisoners and the guards it looked like he was reading the books that Frigga had arranged for him to have. Unable to affect the world outside, he could at _least_ keep the gawkers from laughing and sniggering at him while _Sigyn_ suffered a punishment that-by rights-should have been _his_.

The first time that she was called upon, _pulled_ from the induced dream state, she had surfaced _screaming_ and _clawing_ and _terrified._ It had taken six guards to restrain her until she was coherent enough to understand that this wasn’t another death to live through, another terror to tick off from their count. That had been when she had lived through five-hundred deaths. She did whatever healing that Odin required of her and was returned to the dream state, but not before she had caught his eye and smiled a sad kind of smile that made the _regret_ worse.

Every subsequent time after that the guards paused outside her cell for longer than necessary, he was watching them, waiting with half-dread, half-hope that she would be called upon again. The time between her scream and when the cycle began again were getting longer, she wasn’t going through them quite so fast anymore. At the one-thousand mark, she was called upon again and though there were a dozen guards waiting to restrain her, they weren’t needed this time. She woke with a sigh and dashed at the tears that had been gathering. This time, _this time_ , she kept her head bowed and walked past him without acknowledging he was present.

They never told him _why_ she was being called upon, but sometimes Sif would find him, seek him out, and talk about the _battles_ and the hard won _peace._ She would talk about those injured and how the things that existed in shadows had been creeping out in the absence of the Bi-frost. He read between her words that Thor was not quite as well as she would have hoped him to be. He _heard_ the things she wasn’t telling him in her avoidance to touch upon how the injured were handled and what kinds of weapons that their enemies were using. The Soul Forges and limited abilities of the other Healers could not keep up. That was why Odin pulled Sigyn from the dream state. That was why the rate at which she lived through the deaths had dropped.

At the two-thousand mark, she was called upon again and kept away for an extended period. The guards murmured amongst themselves, worry creased their brows. _Thor_. He heard it in the shifting of their armor, the nervous grip they kept on their weapons and saw it in the dark glances they threw him, but it was _Sif_ who confirmed it for him when she returned Sigyn to her own cell.

This time, _this time_ , Sigyn met his gaze and nodded fractionally. There were lines around her eyes like she hadn’t slept in weeks. She was thinner than he liked, but she was in command of herself and her eyes were clear as she took the potion to place her back into the dream state. When she was asleep again and well into another dream, Sif finally left her side and came to stand before him. For once, he hadn’t bothered with the illusion and peered intently into Sigyn’s cell while the dreams and death gathered once more.

“You don’t deserve her, you know,” Sif bit out.

“She loves too well to be chained to the likes of me,” he acknowledged. “But Theoric would have simply continued on his downward spiral and taken her with him.”

“And you’re not?” she asked, but he already knew this argument and could see that it was just a ruse to hide her own pain and grief at what had already happened. She was here, venting, now because she could and because there was no one else that would listen to it.

“Try convincing Volstagg to stop eating. You’ll have better luck with that than in trying to convince her to love another,” Loki returned.

She looked at the guards that were superstitiously watching them from the end of the hall, trying to look like they weren’t listening. “Half of Asgard thinks you have her enchanted to have agreed to take this from you,” Sif said. “The other half thinks she’s insane. You _aren’t_ worth this, you know.”

To that he only smiled. “Tell me, how is winning over my _brother_ going? Have you found a _human_ to be very difficult in displacing?” She flushed a dark crimson and stepped away from the cell. “Tell me this, then, _Lady_ Sif. Did Thor come through his… _ordeal_ …intact?” At the shock that flickered across her face, he laughed. “It is not as if Odin would wake her for nothing. She is the best Healer that Asgard had, the _very_ best and among the only ones that can heal _without_ a Soul Forge.”

Her gaze flicked to Sigyn and then back to him. “She saw him through it, drew the poison right out and kept up a continuous chain of casting until he could breathe on his own. It was…an arrow right through the shoulder.”

“And the fool kept right on fighting,” he muttered and shared a _look_ with Sif. For a moment, they almost smiled, caught up in the thousand years of history that had been between them. Then, she looked down and really did take a step back. “Do _try_ and keep him in one piece. Sigyn wouldn’t be pleased to wake and find her healing had been undone in a fit of temper.”

At that, she frowned. “Why is it that you suddenly care if he lives or not? You tried twice to kill him on Midgard?”

He shrugged and looked at Sigyn again. “ _She_ cares. Is that not enough.”

“It wasn’t before.”

He looked at her sidelong and grinned. “Yes, it was, actually. And now his continued existence will keep her sane through her foolish endeavor to shield me.” He walked away from Sif then to stand at the barrier between the cells. The ticking seconds and sweat glistening on Sigyn’s skin told him enough. “You should go. There is no further entertainment to be had here, no more reason to linger without raising their suspicion.” Sif watched him for a moment and then stepped away and left him to his brooding and his counting.

* * *

 

When Sigyn had lived through just over half of the deaths from the attempted genocide and invasion, the Dark Elves returned. The Ether found its way to Asgard and Sigyn was woken to tend to the wounded. While she was gone, Thor enlisted his help to save the woman, Jane-whose first reaction to him (in his opinion) was _priceless_ beyond words. When it was over, when the Dark Elves were defeated and Malekith returned to Hela’s custody, Sigyn was brought to Odin rather than back to her cell.

Instead of being chained as she had expected, the guards were dismissed. She looked after the guards, almost wishing that she could go with them. His gaze, when she glanced at him, was on her and bore more sadness than she cared to associate with him. Thor, she had heard, had refused the throne _again._ Frigga’s death had been hard on them all, Loki most of all. Her heart twisted at the thought of what he had gone through, what kinds of ways he had thought up to blame himself.

“There is no easy way to say this, so I will make this as brief as possible for you. Loki is dead,” he said, quieter than the first time he had uttered the words.

They fell flat between them and she merely raised her eyebrows at him. “You’ve tried this already, remember?” she said. “If this is some twisted _joke_ to…to…” she couldn’t form the words, couldn’t throw Frigga’s death in his face. Frigga had been as much a mother to _her_ as to Loki and had been more than kind. To use her death in such a manner dishonored the kindness of Asgard’s queen. She looked away and said, “The last time you tried this, he appeared on Midgard.”

“That time, there was no body. This time, my warriors…” Time bled into itself from that moment. She would never be able to recall exactly what Odin told her, only that after… _after_ …Sif was the one to escort her to Loki…to the _body_ …the _corpse_. The skin was grey and threaded through with blue veins, his hands folded over his chest, and pieces of his armor still barely preserving his modesty. A single spell and the gapping tear in his chest told her he was _dead._

It was Sif who followed her from the room, Sif who caught her when her knees gave out in the gardens, Sif whose shoulder she muffled her sobs into, _Sif_ who bore the strikes of her fists and _let her grieve._ Rage, pain, _despair_ whispered in her ears and settled into her stomach, but madness stayed its hand when it would have been welcomed.

The funeral was a thing to behold… _again_. The flaming arrow that set fire to the little boat wasn’t enough so she made the flame into a fireball that consumed the wood, the princely clothes, the staff, _everything_ as it flared brightly and then guttered out and released the orbs of light. The feast was one fit for a prince as they feasted and _toasted_ and _remembered…_ again. She couldn’t stand to see their false grief, the little smiles they wore, the quick glances they shot her, the smug twitch of their lips as they offered _condolences_. At least Fandral _meant_ it when he when he touched her shoulder and expressed _regret._

That was the last night that anyone would her wandering among them. In the morning, when they came searching for her, when Odin would try and summon her to talk about _duty_ , they would only discover an empty room with a bed that had not been slept in.

* * *

 

Free. It was a word more bitter than the taste of ash, she reflected as she stood on the edge of the building overlooking the mortal city of _New York._ If she concentrated, she could almost _see_ the city as he had left it and even knowing it had been done by his hand, some of the ache eased. Violent or not, this was one area of the universe that Loki had walked into without Odin’s insistence. It was a place where he had fought his own battle and lost. It was as close to _free_ as he had ever come.


	2. Meetings

The sound of air being compressed and cycled and the smell of ash and fire was what told her she was not alone. Tilting her head back, she watched the red and gold warrior land. For an instant, she considered teleporting away…but to where? There was no other realm that she wished to be part of. The warrior’s steps echoed strangely when he touched down onto the room and walked towards her.

“Nice night for star gazing, huh?” the warrior asked.

 She tilted her head back to gaze at the constellations overhead. Their glittering beauty was, indeed, quite something. “Perhaps,” Sigyn admitted. “But it was the constructions of your city that held my attention this night. They are unlike anything I have ever seen and the recovery from the battle is quite extraordinary. It is…as if nothing has ever happened.”

Without turning to look at him again, without _watching_ him, she could almost hear the calculations running through his mind. “You’re not…a jumper are you?” he asked and she turned her head to gaze at him again. “Look, I’m gonna hazard a guess and say…you’re not from around here, right?”

“I can teleport. Why would I wish to jump?” she asked, feeling the echoes of amusement.

 _Watching_ him, she could see the moment that he understood and stopped to assess. She turned back to the city and watched its moving lights snake along at ground level and vanish. “Of all the nights,” she heard him mutter before there was a sound almost like steam being released and the catching of metal on metal. “You from Asgard, too? We’ve had mixed interactions from them so it’d be nice to know beforehand if you’re going to be a lunatic and start killing people.”

“I am…” she had to pause and think about that for a long moment before she turned to study him. He was human, for certain. His armor had told her that much and no one wore protection like _that_ without being a warrior. “My name is Sigyn, born of the Vannaheim and once Healer for Asgard. I claim no realm now. They have taken much from me and I will give them nothing else.”

There was a pause, a hesitation. Then, “Look, that’s great and all, but we’ve only just been attacked… _again_ …by another alien force and we’re…” he trailed off, searching for words, and she realized just how very young they were still.

Sigyn closed her eyes again and laughed, a bitter sound. Loki had done them no favor when he attacked with his _Chituari_ army. “I have come to Midgard because it is only of the only places that does not hold some form bitter memories for me. I bear you and yours no ill intention. All I wish is to…” _have Loki again._ “…exist.” Her throat had closed on the last word and tears had blurred her vision again so she turned her head from the human warrior and stared at the city below. Grief settled over her heart again and _squeezed._

He was a silent for a long moment. “You said you’re a healer, yeah? What’s that mean, exactly?”

 She had to swallow several times before she could find her voice. “If the body is broken, I can heal the damage. If there is a sickness, I can ease the pain and, in some cases, extract the illness. I cannot cure everything, but it made me useful to Asgard in times that the Soul Forges were not enough.”

“You’re _really_ not here for some form of twisted invasion scheme?” he asked. “No one will come hunting you down.”

“No, no invasion and I left Asgard because they took too much from me.”

“Okay, two questions, then. One: can you _show_ us your ability to heal on anyone that we ask? Two: Would you be willing to work with us if said abilities are genuine?”

Her head turned to him and she studied him sidelong. “To the first, yes. To the second, do you work closely with Thor?”

He frowned at that and she saw the answer in his face before he opened his mouth. “ I don-”

“He has placed Midgard under his protection and you, obviously, are a warrior of Midgard. Do you fight beside him?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ve no interest in working with you. If you have wounded beyond your ability to care for, Thor knows _how_ to find me, but do not think for an instant I will respond to anything less than an emergency.” Her tone was hard and biting, but she wasn’t making any hostile moves or threatening. “You’ve nothing but my word to trust for this, but let my inaction and my healing speak for itself. I mean your world no harm and wish to live amongst your kind, but I also wish to limit my interactions with Thor. Just…leave me in peace and your world shall have no harm from me.” With that final utterance, she stepped from the ledge and teleported away mid-air with only a vague _somewhere else on Midgard’s surface_ in mind as a destination, leaving the warrior to stare at open air.

E

 _Somewhere else_ turned out to be too vague of a reference for the spell and she was deposited three feet over one of the oceans to slam down and fight against the currents. Air became a luxury as she was sucked under again and again, deeper and deeper until the strength was gone from her body and she could only float. Half conscious, she wasn’t aware of when she surfaced, but- _dimly_ -she was aware of the hands that gripped her, the lights, the shouting, and the press of fingers against her breast bone until she puked water. _Somewhere else_ indeed was a lesson she would not soon forget.

E

Since the thwarted invasion, the Mandrin, and Greenwich, people had been cautious about superheroes but no less enthusiastic, therefore he wasn’t surprised when Jarvis produced a SHIELD file from on her. Mostly, it detailed the possible myths about her and listed the powers that she had thus far displayed: teleportation and…healing. There were a few photos of her, but the dates were scattered and only told him that the night he had spoken with her was more or less the first night she had come to Earth. In every photo after that, though, her attire became more and more human and reflected the culture of those around her.

“ _Live among your kind_ ” had really been just that, a desire to live among human kind. Besides that, her file contained a single report in which they questioned whether or not a _snatch and grab_ , as Tony muttered under his breath and scowled at the rough outline, was a good idea or if she should be left alone. All subsequent attempts to approach her-two in total where they had actually had enough time to get someone out to where she was-had been met with teleportation. At the end of the end of the report, it was recommended that she be labeled a _low-level threat, capable but abilities unknown,_ that she _be watched with the intention of bringing her in_ , and that _while her identity is unknown_ _call her Healer._ With that and everything he knew about SHIELD, he wasn’t inclined to tell them about his interaction or his own research.

When Jarvis updated him that there was a new entry into the _Healers File_ -or _Project Sigyn_ as he called it in his more personal files-he almost wasn’t surprised by the _rumors_ that had been input into it. There were whisperings, news reports even, in which _miracles_ were being performed. Children on their death beds awoke like they had never been sick, crippled and mutilated individuals handicapped by old wounds were suddenly able to walk and speak again, and-in the darkest shadows of the underworld, there were whispers that this was the doing of _the Healer_. No one could ever do more than give a basic description- _dark hair, olive tone skin, fit, mid-late thirties_ -and say that they had not paid her anything, only that the Healer had deemed them _worth saving._ The thing that drove Tony up the wall was that there were only a handful of these cases spread out across different countries and continents and those that _knew more than they were saying_ couldn’t be pressed for more details. A few tests run on those she had healed showed no residual spells, no lingering damage, just a healthy body and cells like every other adult or child their age.

With the file in hand, and fingers tugging through his hair, he sat in a chair at the desk in his garage. Stark Industries was calling for the third time that morning and Pepper had checked up on him once-something was going on, he _knew_ , but the rumors had been updated again, this time changing the _displayed abilities_ to that of _three known_ : Healing, Teleportation, and Strength. A notation had been made: _Asgardian?_ Apparently, she was back in New York and there were a few news reports circling about _horrific_ _car crashes_ and the victims being pulled bodily from the wreckage and _paramedics finding no visible signs of injury_ even though the cars were burnt out husks and fire was still guttering and-sometimes, _sometimes_ -the body of the cars looked like they had been bent and forced _aside_.

Finally, _finally,_ his conscience won out and he set the file aside to begin tracking down Thor’s location. It was bound to circle back to him, sooner or later, and Sigyn _had_ said that the thunderer would know how to locate her. Thor, for all that he was “off the grid”, was painfully easy for Tony to find between the Facebook photos and SHIELD files. Apparently, they had been going back and forth over whether or not to approach him about _the Healer_. By the new reports, Fury was at his wits end with trying to approach her- _five more attempts met with teleportations_ -and was leaning towards having Barton tranquilize her or approaching Thor about the newest addition to the “meta-human” community since they were still uncertain about whether not she was actually human or not.

Thus, that was how Tony found himself hovering over New Mexico and contemplating how best to approach the situation. He wasn’t _running from Pepper and the situation_ , not at all and Jarvis’ silence on the way hadn’t helped. This was a friendly visit to update a _friend_ on the status of one of his possibly- _rogue_ -subjects. 

So.

It almost wasn’t a surprise when Thor greeted with a wary warmth and an excuse that left Jane and Darcy working in their lab. Any other day, any other _meeting_ , he’d have been thrilled to exchange theories with Jane, but this wasn’t any other visit. Thor’s perceptive gaze on him, the way that he studied the human warrior told Tony everything he already needed.

So.

It was on the outskirts of that small town Jane lived in he could never recall the name of that Tony found himself telling Thor everything he knew. For all that the Thunderer’s face did not change, that he turned his head from Tony was almost an admission of guilt. “…said you’d be able to locate her if we needed her,” Tony finished with a frown.

“Aye, that I can, but I will not summon her,” Thor said.

Tony looked at the small group that had gathered about a mile away to take pictures and mutter quietly over the two of them. “Look, she hasn’t made any hostile moves, but it’s been _six months_ and SHIELD doesn’t have more than a few scraps to go on for her. They’ve tried approaching her and that hasn’t worked. Their next move is to tranquilize her or ask your help and, judging by your reaction and her’s, I’d say they’d have a better time with Barton.” He paused and said, delicately, “If the myths are right and she is _Loki’s_ wife, then they’ll be inclined to subdue her and-”

“It will do them no good,” Thor said flatly and pained regret filled his face for a moment. “Loki is dead. Sigyn likely came here just after the funeral in an attempt to leave Asgard behind and find some measure of comfort in the fact that Loki came to this realm. You say that she has been to New York several times?”

“Half a dozen by SHIELD’s count,” Tony replied, sorting through the emotions that flashed through him at the news, _relief, fear,_ and _uncertainty._ “I-I _am_ sorry, for your sake, that your brother is dead.” The unspoken _is she stable_ passed between them, but Thor only shrugged and looked at the small crowd that was still flashing pictures of them.

“Asgard… _I_ …took from her, her future,” Thor admitted slowly. “What little she gains by being here will never be enough, not with regards to what could have been, but if she gains some measure of peace, of _healing_ by being here, then I will help her to defend it as best I can. If she told you that her intentions are peaceful, then they are.” Thor regarded him gravely after that. “Do not make an enemy of her, friend Tony. Things do not end well for those that do.”

All the subtle questioning in the world did not divulge anything more and Tony didn’t have the heart to pull Loki’s name into the conversation again. Even he knew when some wounds were still too raw to poke at and this was one that screamed _don’t touch,_ so he was left with unsatisfying answers and forced to return to what he did best.

It became almost an idle curiosity after that, tasking Jarvis to watch for anything new and having him sort them into categories: Healing and Other. He got the report detailing the different activities at the end of the week. Healing, eating, _watching_ , and fitting in. For all that she was an _alien_ and able to teleport, no one that she interacted with seemed ill at ease, but then she never seemed to interact with someone more than once.

“Jay,” he asked a week after his conversation with Thor. “How would you categorize her behavior?”

For a long moment, his AI was silent. “Based upon everything that we have observed, there is a sixty-seven percent that she is not planning a massive attack.”

He looked up from SHIELD’s most recent report on her. “ _Only_ sixty-seven percent?”

“I am accounting for the fact that she has not achieved a stable existence since she arrived and for past associations,” Jarvis replied. “In light of this knowledge, I feel that sixty-seven percent is a very optimistic number. She is, I believe, less of a threat to humans than to Asgardians. Mythological references refer to her as a healer, not a destroyer of worlds.”

He sorted through a few other reports he had managed to glean from SHIELD and other government organizations. “What about this one? This Doctor fellow. Shows signs of madness, paranoia, and a penchant for building things with… _paranormal_ …affects,” he scoffed. “Lives in… Latveria. Thoughts?”

“Potential to be a minor to moderate villain, assets lend a ninety percent chance of lethal weapons acquired. Paranoia makes it unlikely he will work often with other villains,” Jarvis informed him in dry tones. There was a moment of silence between them in which Tony didn’t look up from the reports he was shuffling through and Jarvis cast about for the right phrasing, finally settling on, “Sir, this will not make your situation any better. The shrapnel has-”

“I _know_ , Jay. I just… _can’t_. It can’t be done. I’ve looked into the alternatives and there are none,” Tony said, running a hand through his dark hair and sitting back hard in his chair. “The theory is sound and I can _build_ the equipment, but…it’s…I would have to put my life in someone else’s hands, someone _other_ than Rhodey, Pepper, or one of the Avengers and it’s…I _can’t._ ”

“But-”

“ _No_ ,” he said and his voice broke. 


	3. Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I disclaim all characters and events taken from Marvel, Marvel Cinematic, and anything else copyrighted. The only thing I own is my own creative insanity.
> 
> In this chapter, we pick up where Sigyn left off and we see the six/seven months play out in snapshots from her perspective. Fair warning for dark themes ahead.

 

Sigyn had, it turned out, dropped herself into the Atlantic Ocean off the tip between Canada and Greenland and the men that had pulled her out were part of a fishing company. Mostly, what she remembered from those few days she spent with them was answering a few questions, shivering, and turning away food when they tried to feed her. Between the hushed, concerned voices and heavy footsteps as they stomped around on the deck, she didn’t sleep, _couldn’t_ sleep. Too much activity, too confined of a space, and too little energy to teleport away.

When they docked, she had been gently handed over to the medical and harbor staff that had been called and the only thing she could bring herself to do was curl into a ball beneath the blanket they had thrown around her shoulders. She could make out some of the conversation, but didn’t decipher what they were trying to say even when they talked to her. Mostly, once they realized she wasn’t going to answer their questions, they took her vitals and talked quietly amongst themselves. Exhaustion clung at the edges of her vision and turned the world grey.

After that, she recalled only snatches of color and sound as they guided her and turned her here and there. Where she normally would have resisted gentle directions, she found the familiarity of them to be…reassuring. At some point, they few her food that she didn’t turn away and their faces started coming back into focus until she slid into a light slumber.

When she woke, it was from the dropping of a tray and the startled oath of a…healer? She tried to focus on the woman and found it difficult to do so. Blinking, she realized that she was looking at a strangely garbed woman and that her head was foggier than it should have been for such a light sleep. How long had it been? She tried to measure the hours and came up with only a blank. Struggling up and out of the twisted mess that she had made of the blankets on the… _bed?..._ she swung her legs free and measured the human healer from beneath her lashes.

In their place, she had sedated intruders and attackers alike who had breached Asgard’s defenses. She had fought to drawn blood to _protect_ , but this wasn’t Asgard and these humans weren’t warriors by nature. That didn’t mean she didn’t recognize _threat_ in the human’s movements when their eyes met and the woman threw herself backwards and…

Sigyn was gone from that darkly lit room and its not-healer before she found out how humans treated those they considered a threat. Whatever they had drugged her with was still present in her body, but- even disoriented-she could still reach for _Loki_ and let the spell wrap around her and deposit her onto her knees in the middle of a crowded area. _New York._ Distantly, she recognized the rising buildings and ostentatiously marked _A_ tower. Blinking and coming a little bit more to her senses, she looked around at the humans that had paused and felt _power_ prickle along her skin and scrambled to her feet to weave through the humans before the _watcher_ could locate her.

 _Whispers._ A familiar voice. _Whispers._

A hallucinogenic sedative to make her pliable and relaxed. _Beeping_ that echoed through her skull as she wove a path through the humans. _Away_ , the whispers told her. _Safe. This way._ The ache that curled through her belly and settled over her heart had nothing to do with the nausea that wormed its way through her with movement. It was bone deep and did nothing to stop her from following the pull that _Loki’s_ voice was leading her through. Shapes blurred again into themselves and she staggered into someone’s shoulder only to be shoved back. The magic that rose to her defense was clamped down on.

When she was next fully aware of herself, she found that she was in an abandoned building that looked as though it had once been used for storage, forgotten, taken over by the less fortunate, forgotten again, and then... _used_ …by one like her. _Magic_ danced around this place and, for just one moment, the pain, that _ache_ was gone before she slipped back into a dreamless sleep to regain the strength she had spent.

* * *

 

As the seasons changed and the leaves drifted slowly to the ground to leave the trees barren the weather turned bitingly cold and she passed the time by exploring, by watching, by shaping her surroundings to something that suited her needs. _Understanding_ the culture and the words and the clothes was slow in coming, but observing them told her how to fit in even if she didn’t fully comprehend the _why_ behind what they did. The dress she had originally left Asgard in had since been morphed into jeans and a simple, green cotton shirt. Occasionally, she shifted the patterns and refreshed the clothes to be sure she didn’t stink, but for the most part they were left alone. Eventually, she would have to acquire different sets of human clothes when this set wore out, but until then she decided to leave well enough alone. Mimicking the exact paper and quality of their money had been trickier than she had thought it would be, but-eventually-she had perfected it and didn’t resort to stealing food and leaving conjured gold for the owners.

Whatever the building she had first woken in _had_ been, it was now home to the occasional beggar and a choice location for prostitutes and their marks.  A charm that continually cleaned the area she had chosen. A spell to draw water from the local source- _not_ the closest one as she had learned when she tried to boil it (and _really_ , the _sewers?_ _Water_ was not _waste_ , she had had to reinforce into the spell).  Making the entire building vanish would have been too conspicuous and required an anchor, but making one room unseen by those who came and went was easy enough and required almost no power at all when she anchored it into regenerative anchor.

With the days the faded into weeks, she slowly came to understand that Loki had spent a great deal of power here, had put a real effort into working on…something. When she concentrated, she could almost make out the shock-tingle of a power strong enough that its echo made the hairs on her neck stand up, but that’s all it ever did and it got weaker every time. With the passing of time and the longer that she worked her own magic, the echoes of his faded a little more.

It was when she was sorting through the spells she had anchored in the magic that she took note for the first time of the others that passed through. A _whimper_ that echoed through the darkness and rippled through her. She cut the link with her spells and looked sidelong into the darkness. The other _inhabitants_ were used to her, knew she would pay their activities no mind if they left her be. Asgard and Vannaheim had had its share of illicit activities and _these_ were tame in comparison, but…that _sound._ She knew pain when she heard it, felt it _echo_ up from her own experiences.

The sound repeated, just a fraction louder this time and accompanied by harsh breathing. She followed it at a quick pace and approached without running, already falling into _dark_ and _protector._ A female on her knees and a male above her with a hand braced against the steel wall and clenched buttock bare to the world as his hips moved in a harsh rhythm. Whore, she identified by the last, revealing shreds of clothing. As Sigyn moved closer, footsteps silent now, she saw the bruises and the lacerations that littered the female’s skin. A deal gone sour, then. She paused in the moment before she struck and assessed how much power would disable him.

He was talking, but she didn’t hear the words. She heard only the pained sounds that the female was making. Then, power crackled in her hand and she had him by the throat, fingers digging into his throat and blood seeping down his skin as her power wound its way through him. Before the impulse set in to _crush_ the fragile bones in her grip, she walked him back and threw him at the floor. The woman- _girl_ really-scrabbled back and curled around herself against the wall, shaking and hiding her face. Satisfied the girl was in no more danger, she turned to the male and curled her lips when she saw him trying to _crawl_ away.

Walking after him at a casual pace, she placed a foot delicately on his left wrist and exerted enough pressure to _splinter_ and _crack_ and **_scream._ ** She stopped just before she crushed the bones past knitting. “Child,” she said, pitching her voice so the girl could hear her. “What is your wish for this one? It is you who came to harm at his hands, let it be your choice to decide his fate.” She could feel the spell curling beneath his skin, feel the way that it _pressed_ against fractured bones and _flexed_ in anticipation for her command. The noises that he was making were meaningless, but the girl’s…

“Go _away!_ I don’t want him anywhere near me!” the girl shrieked, head buried in her arms as she rocked back and forth, sobbing.

Sigyn paused, assessed herself, and reluctantly removed her heel from the man’s wrist. Mercy, then, would be issued, but there would be no walking away from this, _not_ something like this. Predators and prey were all well and good, but not among sentience. Not among one’s own race from those too cornered by the world to do any better.

“The next time you wish to prey upon someone, you will _remember this_ ,” she said and crafted her spell into _memory_ set to specific, base desires. “You may go now,” she said dismissively and turned away to walk slowly towards the girl. Distantly, she was aware of the male’s babbled words and the sound of him scrabbling away as she circled the girl to kneel beside her.

Sigyn traced a hand gently along the girl’s arm and withdrew the touch when she flinched, but it was enough for the magic to take hold and soothe pain and repair the cuts. The bruises faded until there was nothing left and her skin was unblemished again. “Child,” she said gently, “You will not come to harm from me. Will you look at me?”

The girl shook her head and sobbed harder. Sigyn didn’t sigh. She just settled back against the wall and waited. Eventually-finally-the girl had cried herself out, but her trembling hadn’t subsided so Sigyn started talking, not about anything important, just about things she had gleaned from observing and pieced together and about other things, like about food. Sometimes she posed a question, paused and then continued talking when there was no answer.

She stopped when the girl took up a soft, broken litany, “I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home…”

* * *

 

Sigyn learned of _newspapers_ and drew great amusement from some of the stories she read, others she simply smiled at. Almost the very first one that she read had a picture of one Amanda Smitheson whose _“…reappearance was considered nothing short of a miracle in light of police having given her up for dead almost a year and a half after her disappearance…”_ That and the follow up on the girl’s recovery and claim that _“...’real live superhero found me’…”_ had been the only bits of news she had looked upon with any bit of fondness as the others filled in her knowledge gaps for the goings on for the world.

The stories regarding devastation and war and famine in _“third world countries_ ” drew her curiosity and hostility when the papers featured pictures of skeletal thin children and villages blown apart. After that, she began learning the geography of the distant continents to teleport. In doing so, she brought herself into contact with people who reminded her painfully of the Vanir who lived in distant villages far and away from the ruling city, whose homes were carved from rock and survival bought in blood and sweat and pain.

The healings she performed time and again usually brought gratitude that she shied from, unused to as she was with tears and individuals trying to hug her or press into her hands what little they had. It became almost habit to vanish once the spells had completed themselves and she was certain of a recovery. What was familiar, though, were the healings that brought contempt and suspicion and accusations of being _“…the spawn of Satan…”_ or something similarly evil as she understood from the cultural references they hurled alongside the stones. And always, every time, the warmth of _connection_ , of _familiarity_ eased some part of the ache as she worked spells that came as easily as breathing.

No matter how long it was that she spent among the other countries, eventually she always returned to New York to wash the grime and mull over the memories she had made there. In the end, she admitted that there was no difference that she could make through healings there alone and bringing some type of peace to those countries would have required a take over-which she could _probably_ do with a few subtle spells and allies-but the humans had already proven their reluctance to outside influences and she had never _desired_ a throne anyways. It was New York, in fact, that showed her how she _could_ make a difference to those that needed hope.

* * *

 

In the darkest shadows of the human _underworld_ in which dreams were preyed upon and lives gambled away, the seedy collectors of drugs and illicit things whispered quietly among themselves about _the Healer._ Miraculous healings performed with no want of reward, the drying up of one of the _businesses_ when the _boss_ was found dead behind his guards and security alarms and no signs of forced entry, the slow, creeping fear that one of them would be next. When one of the brighter criminals thought to take a hostage out of one of the ones she had _healed_ and demand a ransom, the thug turned up the next morning as a suicide, the others involved with the kidnapping turning themselves in, and the hostage nowhere to be found.

* * *

 

Sigyn had the child cradled in her arms when she shifted back to the boy’s home and found the local authorities searching for him using hounds and flashlights. She had, originally thought to tuck the boy into his own bed but the voices from downstairs had drawn her to the stairs and the creak of wood and her appearance broke the quiet hum of conversation and planning. The mother’s outburst of _“Oh, thank God”_ was something she had expected and had freely given the boy to his mother-subtle spells aside, she had been sure of the woman almost from the beginning.

What she was _not_ expecting was the policemen to draw their _guns_ and move in on her.  The demands for her surrender were ignored as she nodded again to the mother’s tearful litany of thanks. The spell wrapped around her and then she was gone.

* * *

 

The car accidents had been, well, _accidents._ She hadn’t meant to rip the vehicles apart to get to the child and the adults, but standing on the side of the road and _watching_ the husk of a metal monster flame and destroy _life_ hadn’t been something she could do. When she had dashed forward from among those that watched, she felt the grip of hesitant hands try to pull her back and fall away. She never heard the gasps of surprise or the hopeful murmurs when she wrentched the door open and dragged the child out. Someone who had followed her took the child from her and backed away when she dove back into the heat of the flames and wormed her way forward to touch a hand to each parent and teleport them twelve feet away.

More people stepped forward to take the adults and drag them back while she turned again to the burning husks of metal. A subtle spell let her see the varying movements of the heat inside the flames and…yes…there…someone else was still alive and thrashing about the other truck…trying, _trying_ to get out. Between one thought and the next she was inside the fires, feeling them lick again at her arms and face while she got her arms around the person’s torso and traced back her path to the concrete where she could lower the gasping body gently to the cold stone.

Throwing a containment field around the cars was almost a second thought while the flames roared and consumed the wreakage. With four victims gasping for air and struggling to stay conscious, she had them lain side by side where she could monitor vitals and work spells. Starting with the child, she began to heal the internal damage that inhaling the fire had done to his throats and lungs. Occassionally, she threw a glare at someone who strayed too close while she worked until, finally, she had healed the last adult’s blackened skin and returned it to her normal shade of pale white.

She looked up as someone flashed a light and took note of how many people seemed to be holding small, rectangular devices and how the humans had crowded into a circle around them. Scowling, she released the spell that had kept the adults unconscious and waited just long enough for the parents to grab at their child before she straightened and surveyed those around them. “Back off,” she said as the male from the second truck staggered to his feet and looked around, dazed.

She turned to catch his arm as he took a step too close to the crowd that was starting to talk excitedly. The parents, she was relieved to note, had not moved from cradling their child and simply looked at each other, stunned. “How’d you do that?” came the first shouted question. “Was this a movie stunt?”

They pressed closer and she held her hands out to either side of her, commanding her power to wrap up around the five of them and to _not allow others closer._ Exclamations of surprise rose as they were pressed back a step. Some fell away with a wary look, but there were others more than happy to push forward and run their hands over the barrier she had crafted. The noise rose in pitch until the first scream sounded as someone was shoved and stepped on.

Frustrated at the way things were turning, she snapped off several spells that burst off bright lights before the crowd and made a noise like a dying banshee. Another spell to freeze movement within the general area before the stampede and shrieks began and she had their attention as wholly as if she had murdered someone in front of them. “This is no stunt,” she warned them. “I _ask_ that you back away and not harass these people. Have they not been through enough trauma? Were you in their places, would _you_ appreciate being gawked at?” A few mutinous _“yes”s_ floated up from the crowd, but they sounded half-hearted and muttered at best. Instead of responding to them, she continued, “I’ll release a few of you at a time so that you do not trample each other. I apologize if I frightened you, but pressing together like this is not safe.” Thus said, she began the process of undoing the spell one part at a time. When she had released about half of them, there came the wailing of red, blue, and white lights to announce the arrival of several teams of thoroughly confused firemen and policemen.

The male from the truck, she noted, was staring at her with something torn between terror and gratitude, but he said nothing and the parents had long since seemed content to lean together and murmur over their child. For an instant, she felt a brief pang of jealousy. Then, her attention was wholly on releasing the spell again even as the first policemen wove their way through the remainders of the crowd and paused at the edge of her barrier when they found they could go no further. “Give me a few more moments and I will release the other spells,” she told them. “I apologize. It was not my intention to cause such a stir.”

“Anyone die?” one of the officers asked, running a hand through his hair and sighing.

She blinked at him. The lack of reaction to her magic was…unusual…but refreshing. She smiled and shook her head. “None that I know of. There may be a few injured among the crowd but none severely so,” she said.

“You can release them. We’ll take over from here…” the way he trailed off indicated he was waiting for a name.

“Healer,” she said and hesitated. “You are certain?”

“It’s what we do… _Healer,_ ” the officer said, almost smiling at the name, but there was a tired, _wary_ expression in his eyes that made her hesitate again. Finally, she did release the people that remained and lingered just long enough to see the medical personel start towards those indicating they were injured and watch the policemen engage some of those that had witnessed everything. The cars had guttered out long ago and those she had healed were as well as could be expected.  Satisfied there was nothing further for her to do, she simply vanished.

* * *

 

The next time she pulled apart a pair of cars, she was more careful and simply teleported those that needed healing _away_ from the scene and kept them unconscious until their law authorities arrived to take control of the scene. Only then would she return those that had been in the accident. Reports and rumors of a _Healer_ continued to circle through the city and its nation but she remained happily inconspicuous and occasionally disguised when she walked with humanity.

* * *

 

Through it all, she was painfully aware of the eyes that watched her. Six months, six _peaceful_ months she had spent on Midgard and only a handful of times had she been approached-the humans, of _course_ knew that she was there and had their own eyes on her but theirs were easiest to evade. It was Heimdall’s gaze and another’s that occasionally unsettled her as she felt their power graze over her. Odin was tracking her, she knew that and didn’t care enough to do more than hide the location where she slept. It was the third that kept her on edge and finally drove her out of her peaceful existence.  


	4. Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, I'm still getting to know Amora's character so if she's different than in The Debt Repaid-if you've been reading that one-or seems different than in the comic its because she it. I also couldn't resist twining Sigyn's history around Amora's since so little is actually known about the pair of them.

Though she was a healer by choice, profession, and temperament, Sigyn reflected wryly, she was also a sorceress and by definition one of three females who could have done more than wield a single type of magic. Loki, for all that he enjoyed mischief, had been one of only a few sorcerers. The number of male and female magic wielders amongst the known realms came to only a dozen. With Loki and Frigga dead, it brought that number to ten. Rivalries and jealousies had always been the heart of the relationships among magic users for as long as they had known of one another. Even she and Frigga had clashed on occasion, though the results were never anything that could not be repaired, but it had never compared to the fights and devastation she and Amora caused when _they_ clashed.

Amora’s escapades through Asgard and the other realms were half legend and exaggerated lies with just enough of a touch of truth to be terrifying and intriguing. As it was, Sigyn watched the other sorceress with a slanted gaze as she blew on her coffee and reclined in her chair in front of the café she had chosen that morning. The human watchers had been pressing closer of late and she had begun contemplating letting one of them approach her, but Amora had stolen her attention because-of _course-_ the Enchantress would have chosen _now_ to pick up the last thread of their previous fights.

The humans chattered and moved amongst themselves, unaware of the two magic users that were eyeing each other. It didn’t matter that they couldn’t _see_ Amora or that the female had chosen to wear her tightest green outfit and matching boots because Sigyn could see the shimmer of power that cloaked her from prying eyes.

In times past, Amora had never bothered with subtle tricks the way she and Loki had. Hitting hard and running fast had always been her style. The plans that required greater lengths of time and preparation were also something that hit unexpectedly and wrapped themselves up within a matter of days _when_ they were acted upon. This, now, intrigued her. Amora was leaning outside her usual habits and simply _watching_ her.

When Sigyn finally raised her eyebrows and sipped at her coffee, Amora grimaced and scowled at her. The magic held even as the Enchantress strode towards her. Subtly, her own power rippled up and flowed protectively around her. Sigyn shifted her position and leaned her arms on the table, legs positioned for a quick rise. “I thought you’d have preferred Asgard,” Sigyn murmured into the cup when Amora stood across from her.

“The humans watch you, you know,” Amora said, voice pitched in amusement.

“I’m aware,” she returned evenly.

Amora paused, like her answer wasn’t the expected answer. “You are aware and yet you allow them this _close?”_ she asked, eyes flicking to the male wearing a business suit and hovering with his head turned away. He had a phone glued to his head and a bagel in his hand, but he rarely said anything and occasionally darted a glance at her. Sigyn caught his eye on another pass and held it just long enough for him to know she knew before she returned her gaze to the Enchantress.

For a long moment they studied each other, a strange understanding seeming to pass between them. “You have not come to fight,” Sigyn said. “You’ve not brought your pet with you. Why _have_ you come?”

Amora looked at him, oddly at a loss for words. “It is…not outside the realm of possibility that I would wish to…ensure that you are still sane. _Every_ realm has heard of your loss, sister,” she said and Sigyn visibly stiffened. “I never liked him and I always thought you foolish to love him, but you were happy and _strong_ together. You have my condolences on your loss.”

She stood and turned away. “As you have always had mine in your choice,” she murmured in return. She tossed the half full cup into the trash and moved away at a slow walk, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket. Amora, she saw out of the corner of her eye, wavered in a decision before she followed. For a moment, she had a fleeting impression of recognition, but like everything from her early years of life it slipped away from her. Whatever had been between them as children, only the imprint of vague emotions remained. It wasn’t enough to stop them from _fighting_ and _striking_ at each other, but in times like these-when grief curled around their hearts-it was easy enough to hold to the familiarity of these moments.

Through the park they wandered for a time, both loathe to break the silence that had settled between them. Finally, Sigyn moved into the shadows of a willow and pivoted to face her. “Your magic has a certain quality to it that I would know anywhere. You’ve been watching me, so this is more than a visit to express your regret,” she said bluntly and regretted only briefly the quick pain that flickered across Amora’s face before she smiled that same smile she always wore.

Their roles settled back into the familiar routine, bound by the guarded respect and dangerously edged acknowledgement they were equal to each other. “There was an item taken from your sorcerer when he failed in his conquest of this world,” Amora stated. “I would propose that you join me in taking it back from the humans.” As expected, a sharp hunger crossed Sigyn’s features before she turned her face away.

“The scepter that controls the wills of those it touches,” she said. “No. I will not join you in taking it. Leave it where it is, _sister_. Naught but ill will come of taking it from where the humans have placed it.”

Though it was abrupt and expected, Amora had been expecting the answer but it made it taste no better. She had been _trying_ to reach out, to draw Sigyn into her world and give her some form of stability. What better way to begin to achieve it than by taking something from the ones that had started Loki down the path towards his death? Studying her now, though, she could see that she had come too late. “You _enjoy_ living among the mortals?” she asked softly.

Sigyn’s answer was slow in coming when she met her sister’s gaze again. “It is not enjoyment that keeps me here. It is…” she trailed off, clearly struggling for the words to express emotions she barely understood. “It is complicated and tangled and hopelessly messed up. He tried to destroy this world yet they are resilient and they have nearly erased his path through their world, but they will never be able to completely erase what he did from their memories. They grow around what he did, take the negative and turn it inwards and _grow_. That is something he caused in them and it…” She stopped, tears suddenly catching in her voice.

Amora looked away. Grief that was still this fresh wasn’t something she liked dealing with, wasn’t something she _knew_ how to deal with, but Sigyn was her sister and her rival and _she_ needed Sigyn whole and sane and the only way she could see that happening was if, by a miracle, Loki was actually alive. So, the next best thing…her mind spun back to old plans and even darker days. If Sigyn would not join her and find stability, then there were other ways to force it on her.

“You should go,” Sigyn said abruptly, looking away.

Amora turned her head back to study Sigyn for a moment before she nodded. There were no words left, nothing that would convince Sigyn to join her, perhaps nothing that would _ever_ have convinced her. Turning, she recalled the moment that had set them on their paths, so opposed in nature and in magic, the moment she had struck in jealousy and scorn, thinking her sister had turned from her in shame and in anger. Turning her niece into a half skeletal creature hadn’t been her wisest move, but it had never crossed her mind that Odin would have taken something as precious as _memories_ from Sigyn. Even when she had discovered her mistake and Odin’s treachery, it had been too late to reverse the damage because Hela was simply out of her reach. With that memory held firmly in mind, Sigyn’s rage at attacking her adopted daughter, she left her sister to her grief and the ruins of a life that had been taken from her.

Sigyn watched her go, vanishing from sight as she and Loki had often done and she wondered, for a moment, how differently their relationship might have been had Odin not taken from her the memories of a childhood spent among the Vanir. It had been the price Odin extracted for her willing participation in Theoric’s death and one she had paid gladly.

Suddenly aware that she could see shapes on her peripheral vision moving closer, she turned her head slightly to see the human male from earlier. He was walking straight for her at a quick pace without running. His stride paused for a moment when he met her gaze and then he resumed his steps. Obviously, they meant to try and approach her again. She watched him and considered again letting them approach her, but the fatigue that she felt weighing down on her didn’t bode well if the interaction turned into a fight.

She waited for him to reach the perimeter of the willow’s leaves before she paralyzed his steps and said, “Not today. Tell your superiors that I will allow the next of you to approach me. Just…not today.” Her form twisted on the spot as she teleported away. When she was gone, the spell snapped free and the agent swore.

* * *

 

Thor watched the agents approach, already knowing what it was they wanted. When they asked him to accompany them back to SHIELD headquarters, he didn’t refuse and he wasn’t surprised when he was sequestered into one of their interrogation rooms. The door was left open-of course-but it didn’t do anything to lessen the idea that this… _conversation_ …was going to be anything but friendly. At the least, it was Commander Hill who entered the room ten minutes later with a file and their questions. He was leaning against the wall, fully armored with Mjölnir still hooked to his belt. With his arms crossed over his chest, he studied the SHIELD agent as she set the file down and looked at him in return.

“This is just protocol,” she began. “We mean no offense in asking you to come in, but we need information concerning several potential individuals who are suspected of being Asgardian.”

“What is it that you intend to do with the information I may provide?” he asked. “Do you intend to interfere with those that lead peaceful lives? Or is it your intention to try and draw them into fights they may not even desire to take part in?” It might have sounded callow of him, but in the last few years he had lived through, he had learned the hard way that not all Asgardians were fit to wage war and, indeed, not many even desired the conflicts that he and his friends had eagerly plunged head first into.

Instead of directly answering, Hill flipped open the file and shuffled through the papers until she found the desired photos. Extracting them, she turned them and pushed them towards Thor. “Three in particular concern us. Any others we may identify, we _watch_ and occasionally make contact _if_ they appear to be amendable to the idea of working with us. Direct interference is strictly prohibited unless they are actively showing that they are different from the rest of the world.”

Thor’s mouth tightened, but he approached the table and looked at the photos. One, he was unsurprised, was Sigyn standing beneath a willow tree, her head turned away but her agitated expression still very much visible. The second photo showed Amora and he couldn’t help the aggravated sigh as he studied her. “The Enchantress,” he said, tapping the picture. “Neutral in most things unless she wants something. It would be wise to continue watching her.” The third, unsurprisingly, was an image of Amora’s body guard, Skurge. He studied the image for a long moment before he laid Amora’s picture on top of Skurge’s. “Where she goes, he will follow.”

“Will you tell us anything of what they can do?” Hill asked.

Thor studied Amora’s photo for a long time before he admitted, “Skurge favors strength and straightforward attacks and it is him that I usually clashed with when it came to fights. Amora is more like my brother, but far less subtle. She favors magic that hits hard and ensnares quickly. She does not linger and is difficult to track unless you have another magic user to help you.”

“This Amora and Skurge pair, do you know what their intentions are?”

He smiled humorlessly. “Amora is the intelligent one of the pair. If it is intentions you look for, look for them in the things she does not do. More often than not, she has destructive tendencies,” he answered. He laid a hand against Sigyn’s photo and simply looked at it. “This one. What do you call her? What name has she given?”

Hill absorbed his half forlorn expression and almost found herself wondering if the female was one of Thor’s former lovers. Immediately, she dismissed the thought as neither professional nor relevant to the direct matter at hand. Her objective was to determine the threat levels of the three identified and no more than that. Personal relationships aside, Thor would provide what information he wanted or he would keep it to himself and they had no real way of prying anything out of him. Instead, she flicked through the papers until she came to two particular reports and more photos of the female.

“We’ve been aware of her for several months and she has displayed nothing that would have concerned us in the past, but she’s…elusive. She knows when we’re tracking her and she teleports away if we try to approach her. She’s been named the Healer because most of the time that’s what she does. She seems to have a penchant for healing people and a strength that reminds us a great deal of your people,” Hill explained and observed the myriad of emotions that flicked across his face. “As far as we can tell, she’s settled nowhere since arriving and that is part of what worries us.”

Thor straightened and took a step back to lean against the wall again. “It is most likely that she has settled in an area to her liking and bespelled it so that only she may come and go in that area as she desires. If she does not wish to be found, then you would not even be able to track her. That you have approached her and your men return unscathed should tell you a great deal of her intentions.”

“She’s…an Enchantress, like this Amora?” Hill asked slowly.

“No,” Thor said vehemently. “They are as opposed in nature as she and Loki were. My father named her Fidelity _because_ she is steady in loyalty and hard to wake to anger. She is here because she grieves and because Midgard has never made her suffer as the other realms have.” He paused and looked away, aware that he had given too much away, but it was already too late to take the words back. “Most likely, it is her plan to allow you to approach her when she has a sense of who you are as a whole. She is not one to declare herself lightly. If you wish my recommendation, then continue as you have been. You will not find capturing or bringing her down an easy task so spare your men the destruction and bloodshed and persist in approaching her through peaceful means.”

Knowing they had reached the end of that topic, she switched back to her questions concerning Amora and Skurge and quizzed him a little more on what they might expect if SHIELD engaged them in combat. She was more than a little impressed by the way that he broke down the techniques he and his comrades had used in the past and translated them into methods that would be easily implemented by SHIELD agents.  When he had finished the last translation and she was finalizing her notes, she glanced at him and saw that he was looking again at the picture of the Healer.

“Is she an acquaintance of yours?” Hill asked, more for curiosity than anything, and was surprised by the bark of laughter.

“She is hardly that, but neither is she to me what Jane is,” Thor answered, sliding the picture beneath Amora’s and then adding Skurge’s photo to the pass to Hill. “She was one of Asgard’s finest healers, one of three-I believe-able to heal without the assistance of the Soul Forges. My father would not have been pleased to have lost her cooperation, but she lost as much as I to the Dark Elves…nay…she lost more. I lost family, but _she_ lost a future.”

Hill was quiet for a long moment, absorbing that information. Grenwhich had been one hell of a mess to clean up-not least explain-and she almost couldn’t imagine what had happened in the other realms during the Convergence, as Thor had explained it. “She’s not a threat, but she’s lost everything that might have once held her,” she said, flipping a page up and looking over something. “If we were to use one of the other Avengers to try and approach her, who would you recommend?”

He bit back an initial response of “Any of them will do” and _thought_ about the different personalities in the other Avengers and weighed the likelihood of Sigyn being skittish about talking openly with them. Widow, he knew, was highly skilled in the art of weaving words and drawing information from a situation-she _had_ bested Loki-but that skill would hurt more than help. Iron Man she had already interacted with, but a repeat encounter could produce mixed results. The good Captain was genuine in what he said and did but his only interactions with Asgardians had been with himself and-briefly-Loki. The Hawk…his mind settled on a memory of Barton’s lividly blue eyes during the invasion.

“Send Hawkeye if you must send one of us. He will be wary, but she will appreciate that honest reaction above all others,” Thor said, still tracing the thought he had settled on. “She has been hurt by magic at another’s hand, as has he, and that…” he trailed off and finally looked at Hill’s expression-one quirked eyebrow and a frown tugging at her lips.

“Agent Barton was the first one that we eliminated from among the Avengers with Stark a close second. Their… _histories_ …make it difficult to assess how they would react to interacting with someone like the Healer. Director Fury was leaning towards sending Agent Romanov,” she told him.

He tensed and she almost wasn’t surprised. “Widow is good with words as Loki was. If you send her and she manipulates the Healer into something, I cannot say what the reaction would be. Beyond that, I do not know what else to say. Since her losses, she left Asgard and has made a semblance of a life for herself here on Midgard. Her grief will be deep and her memory even longer. Remember my words and do as you please, but know that if you move her to violence against you I will not help to fight her. The Enchantress and Skurge, yes, I will help to fight, but never _her_.”

There was a moment of silence as Hill studied him. “You helped us to fight your brother, once. What’s different about her?”

 _Guilt_. He turned his head away and suppressed the word before it left his tongue. “She was an ally once that I trusted more than even my own father. I trusted her with the lives of myself, my brother, and my fellow warriors when I was too stupid to realize how wounded we were after a battle. She was one of only three able to stop our celebrations cold with a look and the only one we would heed when she uttered two specific words. Loki was chaos embodied and she is not. I knew that Loki was wrong when the All-Father sent me to retrieve him and the Tesseract. The Healer is not. She will _never_ fall as he did.” The look he gave her was sidelong and there was enough weight to it that she looked away first.

“We’ll remember,” she said and that was the end of it.

After he had gone, Hill remained in the interrogation room and read through the files again, reviewing everything he had and had not said. When she reached the last page for the third time, her fingers traced the words that she had scribbled during their talk: _Healer. Fidelity. Myths. Sigyn?_ The page crumpled beneath her fingers before she shut the file and stood.


	5. Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't what I meant to write and I had half of the next chapter already written before this ambushed me, but it seems...appropriate somehow. I left some details open to the imagination but for the most part I'm pleased with how this turned out.

Newspapers and _watching_ and healing were all well and good, but it was when she found herself simply sitting on the floor of the warehouse and staring blanking at the walls and _not thinking_ about how everything had fallen apart that she realized she was hitting a low again. Loki’s funeral and the first weeks after had been the absolute lowest moments of her life, but this…the _lethargy_ …filling her was worse, _so much worse_. Memories were held at bay and pain suspended but there was no will, no _want_ to do something else.

In the end, it wasn’t magic or will power or even hunger that drove Sigyn to her feet. It was the _smell_. Pungent sweet and cloyingly disgusting, it was the scent of her own body that drove her to her feet. Mechanically, she stripped herself out of her clothes and walked across the room to the makeshift washroom she had cobbled together from stone and other things she had acquired during her months on Earth. Stone that she had shaped with her own magic was rough beneath her fingers when she gripped the edges and simply stared into the mirror over its surface as she waited for the water of the bath to heat.

She wasn’t sure how long she held her own gaze, but eventually-finally-her eyes began to see color again and she regarded the dark green and flecks of brown that made up the color of her irises. The scar that twisted from just beneath her jaw, across her neck, and curled around her collar bone was just slightly darker than the rest of her lightly tanned skin. A memory began to stir as she looked upon that scar, but the spell broke when the bath was the right temperature and she looked away before she could _remember_.

Washing was something  that she did automatically, allowing muscle memory to take her through the task. She had to blink and shake her head when she realized that she was dressed again and sitting… _just sitting_ …on the edge of the thing she called a bed, fingers curled tight in the material. Water still dripped from her hair and the clothes hugged her form a little more closely than normal. Hadn’t she…? The thought drifted away and she was left with only the impulse to curl up. Sleep found her in an eventual fashion and when she next woke she could feel the chill and the silence of the building and the room around her.

It could have been a day or a week that she lay there before she felt the power curl around her. When it washed over her, there was no gentle lift as there had always been, just the _snap_ of a spell closing around her and the hard impact of her body when it dumped her somewhere… _sandy_. What she _knew_ was that there was warmth and the smell of trees and the gentle tug of the breeze through her hair. In the heat of that sun, she dozed for a time and woke curled on her side with her back pressed to a larger body that radiated heat.

The shifting of that body when she sucked in air told her that the creature was large, far larger than any human or mortal animal had a right to be. The coiling strength of muscles and green scales she could glimpse out of the corner of her eye would have been confirmation enough, but the head that bent over her and the dark, green eyes that regarded her made plain who it was that was at her back, who it was that had summoned her.

Her chest tightened as she returned Jormungand’s gaze and the sound that escaped her throat was half croon, half sob. _Loki’s eyes_ and _Loki’s child._

She didn’t try to hold the floodgates shut as she turned in that sand to press her forehead to the serpent’s shoulder. For his part, Jormungand simply shifted his position until he was curled around her and his tail wrapped almost entirely around his body so she could grieve and shake and give into the _pain_ without worry, _without fear._

All the time that she wept, he kept his head up and tilted, ears open as he waited for a sound- _any_ sound-beyond the green sway of the forest that would tell him when a hunter was approaching. He had known, _had always known_ , the moment when she returned to Midgard and _remained_ that the circumstances to bring her to this place were not pleasant. When he had summoned her he had expected a _fight_ , a snarling exchange, cold hatred, _something_ other than this weeping that brought to mind fleeting moments and fragmented memories of a time when he had not been a serpent, when he himself had endured harsh words and grubby fingers prodding and striking at him. _She_ had been his protector, confidant, _mother_ though he was not born to her. _She_ had held him through nightmares, healed the bruises, and smoothed the jagged edges of emotion shattered by words where no one else had dared. For those memories, for the child that still remembered her and yearned for those sheltered moments again, he stayed cured around her.

When the sun began to set and the last rays of heat gave way to the cold and the darkness, her shaking had subsided but her tears still fell, he asked the words he had dreaded to form, “He is dead?”

The word when she spoke, was cracked and almost inaudible, “ _Yes_ ,” but he heard it nonetheless and it broke something inside of him to acknowledge it. No amount of old rage or bitterness could hold out against the grief that tightened his chest and made his head swim. He had known that truth already, had tried to deny what her prolonged stay had meant, but there it was. Fragmented memories of the father he had barely known flickered through his head before he dismissed them. Turning his head to her, he regarded with no satisfaction how small she seemed in comparison to him.

When had it been that he had outgrown her? He remembered too clearly the day Odin had turned him into _beast_ and banished him for something his family had not done. He remembered the three guards that it had taken to hold her back from him, the angry snap of Odin’s power as it collided with hers, and the reaching of her hand towards him. Had he been taller than her then? Had he not outgrown her those times she had come to visit him in the past? Why now did she seem so small?

There were no answers forthcoming in watching her beneath the stars. “Tell me how,” he said softly and she did. It wasn’t the tale he had wanted-enemies broken and dead at his sire’s feet and rushing to the aide of one he called _brother,_ bleeding out from a wound he had been too daft to see coming. Looking away from the one he had once called mother, he commented, “At least…he was not alone.”

He felt the way that the words made her shudder and gasp, but it didn’t produce a new wave of tears or outpouring of grief. “You are…his blood,” she said. “The only one of our children Odin did not manage to destroy completely or rip entirely from us. I wish…I wish that…” her voice broke but there was no need for more words. He _knew_ her wish and joined with her in that desire even knowing that there was no way to undo time. After that, there was only the shared silence of two that had lost too much until the sun began to rise again over the horizon.

With the first rays of the new day finally beginning to break over his scales, he knew it was time to return, that he had spent too long on land. He stirred first and he felt only a brief regret as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Uncurling from around her, he rose and faced the sea with its gentle waves. “Jormungand,” she said softly when he stood at the shoreline. Turning his head slightly, he waited for her to speak again. “Swim deep and live well, darling.” Her voice was husky, but it was stronger than it had been.

“Fly high and keep the wind beneath your wings, mother,” he finished and she laughed, a sound torn between delight and pain.  “Until the next time.”

Sigyn stayed motionless in the sand, her legs bent at an awkward angle as she watched him slide into the sea and, a few moments later, dip beneath the water to vanish entirely. She didn’t move until the ripples of his passing had long since disappeared. Slowly, carefully, she rose and allowed her own power to gather and smooth across the sand to hide the deep furrows that Jormungand’s claws had left, feeling the twisting of her heart even as she understood the necessity.

When she was done, she lingered only a little longer, allowing herself to _feel_ until she had to swallow against the emotions. At least- _at least_ -there was one soul left that would remember as she did and grieve in a way that was different from her own. In a way that the city never could have been, Jormungand was _enough_. Not a future, not a link to the past, but an embodiment of _life_. With that filling her, she was finally able to turn from that beach and stretch of sea and gather her power to her.


	6. Meetings and Worth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After three false starts and a lot of trimming, its finally finished. Hopefully it was worth the wait. Enjoy and please review!

 

Out of uniform and wearing civilian clothes was almost as good of a disguise as a mask, Clint reflected as he patiently waited for the line to wind around the counter and bring him to the harassed cashier to place the orders. Of course, it helped that the coffee shop was packed full and people were jostling each other as they pressed in and out and snatched their orders away as soon as they were made. A disguise, however, did not get him out of running for a half dozen coffees because  _he_  had decided to use the coffee maker for target practice during their planning for the current mission and Stark was more of a caffeine junkie than Fury had ever been.

Giving the woman a friendly smile and an excessive tip-really Stark  _should_  know better than to send him out on an errand with a card attached to his bank account-he threaded his way through the press of people to find a space of wall he could put his back to and  _wait._ In waiting, though, he cast his eyes around the shop and observed the little things about the people around him. A man wearing clothes that were  _very_ creased and his nose buried in a book weaving seamlessly around others: grad student. A woman with a little too much make-up applied around her eye and the way she flinched at the barista's touch in handing off the cup: abusive relationship. Another man in a crisp suit and pressed tie: looking for work, trying to hide it. Second woman sitting in the darkest corner holding her cup and nodding off over a spread of books: single working mother still going to school. His gaze continued to wander, making other observations as he waited for his own order to be called until his eyes came to rest on another whose head was bent over something, dark hair cascading over one shoulder. It took everything in him not to go for one of the hidden daggers and strike before she saw him.

She was as easy to recognize as the other targets and potential allies he had been briefed on. He and Nat did, after all, make a  _habit_  to memorize their faces. Her head was turned away and bent over something, but he recognized her nonetheless with her dark hair, the curve of her neck, even the way she held herself. They'd  _known_  she was in New York, but had never been able to quite pin down enough of a pattern to predict where she would appear next and she had a habit of vanishing as soon as someone started to approach her, but they hadn't tried anything in the last month since she had first spoken to one of their agents. Why then, was she here?

When she leaned back in her chair and stretched out her legs he was finally able to see her face and the book she was apparently engrossed in. One hand was still wrapped around the base of her cup and when her fingers started tapping against the material, he couldn't have said he was surprised when her eyes flicked to him. The ease he had seen in her seemed to slide away, but she turned back to her book. She stayed like that for a moment, giving the crowd just enough time to jostle around her and replace those who had seen her glance.

 _Clever._ The thought flitted through his mind without conscious effort.

Then, she rose from her seat and snapped her book shut. She wove through the crowd with no apparent issue and dropped her cup in the trash before she departed. Clint was moving before he had fully thought anything out, his training more than anything propelling him forward. Fury had, after all, had him briefed on the chance he would need to be the one that tracked her down and eliminated another potential threat. It was only a few seconds that it took him to reach the door and step outside into the brilliant sunlight, but he had the sinking sensation that she had already vanished.

To his surprise, though, she was standing just outside and waiting. Everyone that jostled around her seemed oblivious to her presence, but it didn't make her immune to their hurry and pushing it also-to her credit-did not seem to bother her much as they brushed past her. Standing there, blinking at her, he realized his briefing on her was out of date. Without more than just the knives he kept stashed on his person and the element of surprise, he wasn't quite out of his depth and that was an uncomfortable feeling. Then, she was looking at him sidelong again.

He could see it in the way that her lips thinned and the way that she angled herself a little towards him that she had made a decision. For a long moment, he waited- _tensed_ -for the moment she would attack, but it never came. She just stood there and he remained rooted to the spot. People were starting to turn an eye on him, to stare and slow in their frantic rush.

 _What the hell. Why not?_  There were a hundred, even  _two_  hundred reasons not to do what he was about to, but it had been more than six months since the initial sighting of her and she had yet to turn homicidal. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Clint strolled forward. Her gaze never left him as she watched his approach. When he was a step from her, he noted that the people around him seemed to lose interest and picked up their frantic pace again.

"Who are you?" she asked, tone almost biting. "Who sends you?"

Instead of answering directly, he nodded at the slight haze he could see shimmering around them. "That's a good spell. Decent strength without setting it to a level that will drain you."

If anything, it set her back up even further and she took a step back, suddenly wary. "Who sent you? You are no caster yourself, but you know me and you carry traces of a magic that is familiar to me." She looked around then and seemed to realize they were partially blocking the entrance to the café. "Come. We need to more. The longer we remain stationary, the more likely it is someone will run into us."

With her face turned from him, she missed the shock and flickering fear that passed over his own features. The words  _"…carry traces of a magic..."_ woke something primal and cold in him. It wasn't something he had ever wanted to hear, nor was it something that he had wanted anyone to know. He  _knew_ -could  _feel_ , even-the warmth that lingered sometimes, the echo of those weeks that he had served another, when he had been  _someone else._

But she didn't appear to be interested in carrying on their conversation at the moment as she stepped away again and began walking down the sidewalk. In his peripheral vision, he was aware of the haze dissipating. "Come along," she repeated and he felt his legs move of their own accord.

" _How_ …?" It came out a little broken and a little defensive and she paused for only a split second to look at him before she was moving again.

"All casters can sense magic to a degree," she answered. As they walked, her shoulders seemed to lose some of the tension she had been carrying. "You were unaware?"

"No," he answered without thinking, then snapped his mouth closed. Even if she wasn't about to attack, it didn't mean he had to give things away that were none of her business to know.

Still, though, she seemed to understand something of what she had originally been asking him. Her head tilted back and she shaded her eyes against the sun as she considered the sky. "You are with…the human watchers, then, the ones that find me when I am in the open. The… _other_ …he calls himself a Doctor.  _He_  is not so open in his curiosity, but his… _attempts…_ to arrange a meeting are as unwelcome as they are vulgar."

Clint could read the irritation in her voice, but her gait was easy even as they continued on their meandering path through. "He can be a thorn from what I understand," Clint acknowledged and he saw her lips curve. "I also understand he has connections. You turned him down?" He was almost certain of the answer, but confirmation never hurt.

She waited for a moment until they were among a new group of humans before she answered. "He is a fool and a madman. His understanding of magic is warped and rudimentary. What he does with it is not something that I will condone and as soon as he comes to me himself, I will kill him," she said. "His… _connections_ …mean nothing to me. The things I want cannot be granted by someone as daft as he. No, he can do nothing to sway me to him." Her words halted as they paused at a stoplight and waited for the flash that sent the impatient mob forward.

Someone shoved between them and they were separated momentarily, but she found her way back to his side three people later. Their steps slowed almost by consensus when they reached the other side of the street. "I told the last who tried to approach me from those of yours that I would allow the next to actually approach me," she said and looked at him sidelong again. "I did not expect one such as you."

She hadn't expected someone who had come into contact with magic before. So. That at least explained her initial reaction. The pause stretched between them as they began moving again and he reviewed what he knew about her. Healer, strong, magic user, no known intentions, elusive. His orders had originally been to take her down and bring her in, but that had been scrapped and nothing further said and now here he was. She seemed willing enough to talk and that suited him fine. Without his bow or someone at his back, he didn't like his chances against a potential Asgardian.

Her eyes met his and something flickered through them. "Who was it? I know who I want to name, but…" her voice broke just a little.

"So name him," Clint said, turning his head away as something settled into place with the silken words that wound their way from memory and echoed like a distant wave. Something about  _healer, wife,_ and  _never forgiven._  He knew the phrases, had dreamed of fragmented moments and distanced himself from what had happened, but the words had remained and it was enough to finally reveal the thought that had been nagging at him since he had memorized her face and file.

"Loki," she said softly.

"And you are Sigyn," he returned.  _That_  made her stop mid-step. He had continued on, not expecting her to pause and when he turned to look back at her, there was something  _raw_  and honest about the surprise she was studying him with.

"Hawkeye," she breathed. "You are Hawkeye."

He refused to shift under the weight of her gaze, refused to be intimidated. There was none of his usual humor as he considered her in return. "I am," he answered shortly.

"I…am uncertain of how to proceed," she said and that  _something_  vanished from her face with the surprise. "I know what you must think of him and thus me, by association."

Clint lifted one shoulder and let it fall. They were still regarding each other when the first flash went off and the first voice shrieked,  _"Hawkeye!_ " before there was a shift in the crowd and Clint realized he hadn't been as inconspicuous as he had thought.

"Oh,  _hell_ ," he muttered, already assessing the points where he could make a clean get away. Construction-too many unknowns. Running for it-too many people. Alley- _perfect._

The pitch and intensity of the voice startled her more than him. When she saw that the crowd was shifting towards them and more voices were joining the first the hairs on the back of his neck rose as the air charged with power and she vanished. Then, he was moving-running, sliding, weaving through the crowd before they realized he was there. By the time he reached his chosen alley, the crowd had realized he was no longer there and begun to turn in slow circles. He stepped onto the side of a dumpster and used his momentum to propel himself towards a fire escape ladder.

He grunted with the impact that his body made and the sound of scraping metal as the ladder juddered with his weight. Swinging his legs, he used his momentum again to allow himself to grab for the next bar up and from there pull himself up. From there, it was a short jaunt to the top of the roof through six flights of rickety metal and precarious groaning as the metal joints attaching the structure to the bricks shifted with his movements.

At the final flight up, he paused long enough to look down and was glad to see only a few had followed him into the alley-all six of them females. They saw him looking and an almost inaudible, feminine shriek went up that he was just as glad to have escaped. He looked back up and grimaced as he realized that someone was crouching on the edge of the building and had her gaze focused on the small group of females below him. But of  _course_  she would have figured out where he was headed.

"Do they always do this when you are about?" she asked him, voice pitched so he could hear her.

"If they can recognize us, they'll try and mob us," he grunted back as he continued on the way up. "How'd you guess?" He shot the question at her as she straightened and walked along to edge a few paces to allow him room to vault onto the roof at her back.

Instead of directly answering, she held a palm up and called a flickering, green flame to her hand that he stared at for a moment. She closed her fingers around it and continued to pace around the edge, leaving him to grimace. The residual, of  _course._  "They look harmless," she commented to him. "If they had any actual designs to harm you, they'd have already figured out the entrance and begun to make their-oh…" she paused in her pacing and watched.

Clint leaned over the side of the building and sighed as he realized they actually had begun moving towards the front of the building, leaving one to guard the fire escape. He almost pitied the security guard that was about to be mobbed. Making a note to figure out who it had been and make some form of restitution, he looked back at Sigyn and weighed the options.

Obviously, she did not think their conversation complete, nor was he sure he had gathered the necessary intel on her to keep Fury's rant to a minimum. Bad enough he had been caught flat footed among civilians, he'd  _really_  be in the hot seat from both Steve and Fury for getting tangled with a potential villain without at  _least_  returning with some interesting details about her. Nevermind Stark, Bruce, and Nat for forgetting their coffees.

"They  _are_  harmless," Clint returned and she nodded, stepping back from the ledge to turn towards him.

"How do you wish to proceed?" she asked, gaze just a touch darker than before. "You obviously have questions that your commanders wish answered, possibly even a few of your own. Truthfully,  _I_  have a few of my own."

He stared at her, could  _see_  the hunger for answers flickering through her eyes for a moment. "What did you have in mind?" he asked carefully.

She shrugged, glanced at where the females had been, and said, " _Here_  does not seem an entirely intelligent place to be. You know a few of my abilities and are obviously familiar with what I am capable of. I could teleport us to another section of the city. It is up to you." She stepped forward, hand extended and palm up, but she did not move any closer.

Clint looked over his shoulder at the towering vestige that was Stark's home and the landing pad that served as the location where Jarvis stripped him out of his armor. As good a place as any and  _far_ less likely to get him killed. Looking back at her, he saw the understanding flicker across her features even before he said anything. "Take us to Stark's tower, just outside the actual building up about fifty stories and we can continue."

Her fingers curled in and dropped to her side as she studied the tower. The expression she wore was curiously blank when she looked back to him. What-

"Alright," she said softly. "It is your choice. Come." She held her hand out again, palm up.

Clint hesitated-there was no part of himself that was proud enough to deny it-he  _hesitated_  and she stood there patiently waiting for his actual decision. It was so starkly different from what he remembered with Loki that he found himself inching warily forward to grip her hand in his own before the spell closed around them. Darkness twisting and pressing against him,  _suffocating_  his scream. For an instant-for a  _terrifying instant_ -he was back among the Chitauri and Selvig and the  _invasion_  and then he was stumbling and gasping fresh air hundreds of feet above where they had been and his mind  _was his own still_.

She watched him for a moment, waited for him to regain his breath and rise from a crouch he hadn't realized he'd fallen into. Then, "Will you trust  _now_  that I mean you and yours no ill, Hawkeye?"

" _Why_  are you here? Why Earth? Why  _this city?_ " he snarled out before he could gauge the words and consider the possibility that she had wanted this very reaction, but-no-she stood there, confusion lining her face.

There was only a moment's pause before, "This is the last place Loki stood free before everything went to hell, before Thor offered him  _my freedom_. Where  _else_  would I have gone after his death?" Her tone was quiet, but he could just make out the quiet grief and an undercurrent of old anger. "Asgard holds nothing for me. Even as I claim the Vanir again, there is nothing for me there. The future I once held was taken from me in Thor's foolishness and Loki's blindness. Where else  _but_  here could I have gone in the face of having lost  _everything?_ "

He was silent for a full minute upon that revelation and he pondered in that time what would have happened during the invasion with her at his side. Had he been able to sway her to him with silken words and jagged promises, he could see where her presence would have held him back from the final battle. He could almost  _see_  how she had been the balance to his chaos. Hadn't  _humanity_  once called her  _Fidelity?_

In that silence, she had turned her head to look at the city below them. She angled her body so that when she walked by him, she didn't touch him. His gaze followed her even as he turned with her and stepped to the edge beside her. "My first night here, I was met by a human warrior that wore flying armor or red and gold. He asked then if I would be willing to work with him and others like him. He also asked me if I was interested in another invasion."

"But you're not," Clint said with certainty. "You've been here for near seven months and you seem to have been only interested in healing. Your jaunt to the café, this morning, that was something normal for you." He paused to study her for a long moment. "You're still not interested in working with us, but you won't actively attack us. Would you help us if we asked it of you? In terms of healing?"

She nodded cautiously. "If the wounds are beyond the capabilities of your healers and I am summoned, then I will respond. With the same coin, however, summon me when there is no need and I will not respond to further summons."

"We would first need a way to summon you," he pointed out and she blinked at him, her head turning from the city below.

"Thor can summon me." There was something left unsaid there, in the way that she was gauging him and assessing his reaction.

"You mentioned before that you had had contact with one of our other… _warriors_. Did you tell him this?" Clint asked, half turning his head to look behind them and-yes, there they were-give Tony the evil-eye. Sigyn followed his gaze and half froze, the sound of a sharp inhalation more of a giveaway than he was sure she would have given had she known. His own gaze traveled over Steve, Natasha, and Thor-who was watching them with a closed expression.

"He's here?" she asked.

"Which he?" Clint asked even though he was already sure.

She looked torn between pain and  _want_  as she studied the four observing them from their place behind the glass. "Thor," she answered and Thor started forward like he knew she had said his name, but the glass stood between them. The wind picked up around them for a moment and then settled back into the light breeze it had been a moment ago.

Clint waved them out and Tony turned his head to talk to his AI. A moment later, a door was sliding away from the seamless frame and they approached. Sigyn stood rooted to the spot, still undecided, as Thor stopped twelve feet from her. The other Avengers stopped with him and Clint could see in the way Natasha looked him over that she was assessing whether or not he had been bespelled again.

"Sister," Thor said, but the word had little more sound than the wind.

She studied him, feeling the resentment she had felt start to simmer to life again, but it died beneath the weight of exhaustion. He was alive where Loki was not, breathing where her husband was not, but it didn't hurt quite so much looking at him now. "Brother," she returned, her voice weary and grief tinged. He took a step forward and she took a step back, feeling the ledge touch against her heel. Her gaze turned to the other Avengers, lingering on the only other female before she looked at Thor again. "No, Thor," she said softly. "You and these humans fought him and played a part in driving him to his death. I do not blame you or them for defending this realm. What sits wrong with me is that you offered him my freedom and drew him to his death."

"I…How…I'm not…" Thor started and then turned his head away.

She looked down and studied her hands. "There are only two things that would have given him some measure of desire to join you in a battle that insane again. After everything that had happened, everything we had been through, offering him revenge for his mother's death and my freedom from the bargain I had struck would have been the only two things to draw him back to your side. I was never blind to his less desirable qualities, Thor, or his obsessive habit of trying to shield me from things."

There was a long stretch of silence as Steve glanced between them, Natasha studied the way they moved, and Clint and Tony watched Sigyn. "He was the only one that knew the pathways we needed," Thor said at last, finally daring to look at her.

The look she fixed him with was hard edged and brittle at the same time. It made the other Avengers shift a little, Natasha and Clint each reaching for a dagger and Steve moving to stand a little more towards Sigyn for a better vantage. "Lorelei knew a few. Amora knew even more.  _I_  knew them all, as well as he, but you went for him," she said softly.

Frustration finally cracked Thor's expression and he closed the distance between them until he was within arm's reach of her. The way she tensed at his approach told them enough of her desire to retreat and yet she remained, locking gazes with him. Clint couldn't see Thor's face properly in that moment, but he was sure it matched the anger and grief and  _pain_  in her eyes. "I  _wanted_ you both with us.  _We_ have only ever been able to come away from an  _insane_  battle completely unscathed with you there to heal and defend and knock  _sense_  into us. You would have been able to guard us against what happened, but  _leaving you_  was the price of his help. I could not refuse. To do so would have meant J-everyone's death. Father would not listen and the alignment was already reaching its peak.  _There was no choice."_

"There is  _always_  a  _ **choice**_ ," she returned, voice rising to almost a shriek. "You could have woken me first. I could have talked  _sense_  into him. Instead of allowing the two of you to charge head first into the battle with nothing but a  _human_  at your side. You-" she bit off the words, spinning away from him to balance her weight on the ledge. "No," she said, voice softer this time. "This will only lead to more poison, playing this game. You had your reasons, I don't feel they were enough. Neither of those things will undo what has been done." Her arms wrapped around her sides as she looked down at the city below. "Will you tell me one thing, Thor?"

He reached to touch her shoulder, to turn her towards him, but he hesitated and dropped his hand back to his side. "Anything," he said, just as softly.

Sigyn shuddered at the dropping temperature of the wind and the chill that was curling through her. "Was your human…Jane…was Jane worth his death?" she asked. "Do you have in her what I had with him?"

There was a silence in which the attention of each Avenger focused on Thor and everyone seemed to hold a collective breath. Then, "Yes. Yes, she is. I found in her something I never thought I would find in anyone or anything. She was worth every death, every wound."

She released a shuddering breath. It didn't ease anything, didn't lessen the dulled pain, and certainly didn't bring him back, but it was…strangely…enough. "You were worth it, too," she said, though it felt like her heart was trying to tear itself apart with the admittance. "Summon me in an emergency and I will do what I can." Then, she stepped over the edge and vanished.

Three heartbeats of silence as Thor stared at the space she had occupied only a moment before. Then, Tony broke it with, "Well, that went better than expected."

Thor didn't respond as he swung Mjolnir over his head and took off, leaving them to stumble back a step in the wake of his flight. Clint felt the ledge against his heel with his step back and leapt two steps forward easily when the air cleared. He and Natasha traded a look before he sighed. "I'll do it. I had the longest contact with her," he said, then fixed Tony with a look. "But  _you_  are going to fill in the gaps we've got on her first night here."

Tony blinked at him in surprise and then shrugged. "Sure," he said and-with a final glance at the spot where Thor had taken off from-led the way back inside.

"Neutral or hostile?" Steve asked, falling into step beside Clint.

"Neutral with the possibility of help," Clint answered. "Name's Sigyn and she was married to Loki, but she's not psychotic like he was. I'd say that our best bet is to leave her be." He shrugged uncomfortably. "She's been quiet this long, it might be best to just keep watching her."

He nodded. "Pass it on and we'll see where it goes, but that's good enough for me."

Tony was looking over the blueprints they had abandoned at Sigyn and Clint's arrival. Clint looked at him sideways and Tony jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the elevator. "Jarvis will tell you on the way down."

"Will it tell me everything?" Clint asked.

" _He'll_  tell you what happened that night," Tony replied, glancing sidelong at the archer.

Clint returned the look but proceeded into the elevator without another comment. He had better things to do than to argue with the precocious intellect that made up Tony Stark.

* * *

When he landed on the roof of Jane's newest lab location, he had to gauge his landing so he didn't break through the stone beneath his feet. Standing there, on the ledge, he watched as she directed her assistants and other workers in the setup of her newest prototype.  _You were worth it, too._  The words echoed strangely through him, like water lapping at the ridges of a pool without ever quite breaking over the edge.  _You were worth it, too._  Her entire world shattered beneath her feet and a future snatched before it had begun and she still found some measure of cold comfort to take from it.  _You were worth it, too._  He had never doubted that Jane and Asgard had been worth everything he had done-defiance of tradition, clashing with his father, treason, countless deaths-but he had never stopped to consider himself.

_You were worth it, too._

It wasn't forgiveness, not even close. It didn't even change the knowledge that she blamed him, but it unknotted something in his heart. Some part of the guilt eased and made way for something else, something new.

_Brother._

She had acknowledged that there was still some form of a tie between them despite everything that Asgard and his own father had taken from her. There was still hope.

* * *

When she returned and the spell released her into the warehouse again, she found that she couldn't tolerate the sight of it. Her heart was still beating painfully, aware as she was of everything that had happened and how she had almost struck out at Thor. Instead of staying or teleporting again, she snatched up a jacket from the chest that she kept at the foot of the bed. Sliding it on, she left the room and paused for a moment to watch the other inhabitants.

Over the months, since she had found the girl, she had placed a select few spells on the entire structure of the warehouse to filter certain types of people. Of those before her now, a few were homeless men and women seeking shelter for the night and a few were drug addicts working on their next fix. Judging that none of them were an immediate danger to themselves or each other, she strode towards one of the doorways and checked the wards. One of them pulsed to her touch and she almost grimaced.

Her wards responded to character as much as intent and when they pulsed, it meant that someone with ill intent or questionable character had tried to enter. Following the pulse, she found the individual that the wards had entangled. Judging by the amount of dirt on what had been once decent clothing, they had been trapped several days beforehand, but when she reached out to touch the individual to ascertain gender, she recoiled at the coldness of the flesh as much as at what her power was telling her: a life caught in limbo and held together by metal parts,  _pain_ , and an unawareness suggesting that someone else controlled it.

Mastering herself, Sigyn stepped forward and grasped the machine's chin, turning the head towards her. It had once been male, she identified. "Your name?" she asked, allowing her power to curl through the body of flesh and metal and awaken the consciousness of the individual just enough to answer.

"Donald…Blake," he answered in a whisper and shivered. "Why is it cold?"

Her heart tightened, but she didn't respond directly. "Just two more questions and then I'll let you return to the warmth. What is your last memory?"

His eyes passed over her face and took on a quality that told her he was lost in the memory. "I remember…an island, there was…a promise and then pain. I was supposed to get better, but now I'm just cold. Can I go…back?"

"In a moment," she murmured and kept her emotions at bay. "Do you remember a name? Anything connected to that promise?"

There was a moment in which he said nothing and then he focused on her and blinked. "Victor. Doctor Victor."

"Thank you," she said and she let the spell dissipate. "Go. Sleep well. I will find your family and let them know. Go to Hela. She will take care of you and see that there is no more pain."

When the fires of intelligence died from his eyes again, she untangled the ward from around him and carefully gathered him into her arms as she had done so often in the past for her children. He was heavier and there was no trace of  _life_  anymore, but she carried him nonetheless as she gathered the magic for a spell and focused intently on the image of a building she had seen often but never visited. There was a flat landing area she could recall and in the next moment, she was standing on the concrete of that very landing area with the heaviness of a human-machine cradled in her arms.

* * *

As soon as the weight touched the pressure plates embedded in the concrete, Jarvis began the routine scans and paused when the readings came back negative. Visuals were activated and facial recognition passed through his systems to identify the woman standing there as Sigyn, Healer and Vanir. She was holding someone that he could not identify, but the readings came back mixed on determining  _what_  the second person was. The only thing he could positively identify was that the individual was lifeless.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, watching as the Avengers filed out again. "I didn't know where else to bring him."


	7. Doom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a month of tweaking and smoothing the scenes, I'm glad to say this chapter is finally done. Please R&R!

There was only a heartbeat of hesitation before Tony was striding forward to look at the… _body_ …that she carried. Everything that Jarvis was feeding him seemed to agree that the parts of the individual were flesh, metal, and magic. On the whole, Jarvis was advising him that it looked like what they were dealing with was a new form of cybernetics that interacted with a form of energy that was a great deal like his Arc Reactor.

Even with the communication piece in his ear, he didn't need Jarvis' warnings to " _not touch the individual she carries."_ Getting closer, though, only served to confirm that the individual she carried  _looked_  human. Taking in the slack features and the greying of the skin, his gaze flicked to hers and he straightened. "Dr. Doom?" he asked casually and her expression tightened with her quick nod. "This makes it-what?-six times in a month that he's tried to approach you?"

There was no surprise to her voice or features as she nodded again and said, "Five attempts to recruit my… _assistance_ …and a sixth approach to… _deter_ …me from offering aid to anyone else. My powers function best on flesh and the metal that was… _forced_ …into his body interferes with my abilities, thus I am here. I understand that you had some form of technology that mimics the Soul Forges to a degree and allows you to see into the body as well as detect anomalies."

"You're not wrong," Tony said with a grin. "It's called an x-ray machine and I actually happen to have a fully stocked medical wing on the floor just below us here." His gaze settled on the individual again and he felt the disquieted unease rising again even as he stepped back and turned to the other two Avengers at his back. To them, he gave a shrug even as he stepped forward.

She blinked in surprise at the easy assistance that he was offering. "You believe me, just like that?" she asked and he paused to look back at her.

He grinned at that and she could see the amusement in his eyes. "You, princess, have been under surveillance since that night we met. I've got it narrowed down to three possible locations as to where you may have made your home base and  _none_  of them had the facilities that would allow you to alter the human body the way his was. Aside from that, you've shown almost no inclination to do us harm. Dr.  _Doom_ , on the other hand, has both and he's been making more and more noise recently."

"Ah," she said, not quite sure what to make of the information he had given her.

"Come on," he said, an impatient note coloring his tone and she found herself walking forward. The other two eyed her warily, but allowed Tony his choice and fell into step on either side of her.

* * *

When Thor returned, making his landing as gentle as possible, he found the first room empty. Jarvis, though, opened the doors at his approach and directed him to his creator's current location. What he found there was more surprising that any loss he had ever taken: Sigyn standing between the two human scientists over an image that appeared to be something taken out of nightmares and in quiet conversation over it.

He stood there, in the doorway, just looking at them, until Jarvis slid the door shut behind him. Stepping automatically forward, the movement brought every eye into the room to him. Steve was leaning against one of the far walls just watching everything even as he gave Thor a nod. Natasha had found herself a seat on one of the counters and was cleaning one of her guns while keeping half an eye on Sigyn and the other two Avengers. Tony and Bruce waved at him absently before pulling Sigyn back into their conversation. For her part, Sigyn had briefly met his gaze before letting Bruce and Tony have her attention again.

Instead of intruding on what looked to be a very technical discussion, he followed the edge of the room around to stand beside Steve. "How long-" he started.

"About twenty minutes after you left, she turned back up," Steve said and then filled him in on what he had missed. They had started with the need to examine the body of someone sent to her by Dr. Doom and that had evolved into using the x-ray machine on the medical floor. With the results obtained they had needed, Tony had sent them to his workshop and things had devolved from there until Sigyn had taken apart the image and begun showing them what was and wasn't supposed to be possible.

"And this…Donald Blake…he is still kept here?" Thor asked.

Steve looked at him sidelong. "Yes. She said she had left a preservation spell on him to ensure nothing changed about his appearance. After we were done, they wrapped him in a sheet and…laid him in a corner bed. Jarvis is supposed to be keeping the temperature in that area cooler than the rest of the tower."

"The mission that we were assigned? Is that not still a priority?" he asked.

Steve nodded at the trio and the new image that Tony had slid into place on the screen. "Those are the blueprints," he said and he sounded only a little unsettled that Tony was sharing the classified documents with her.

* * *

Bruce shot a sidelong glance at the Healer again and privately wondered at the fact that Tony had so easily taken to trusting her with things like the blueprints. The other scientist, he knew from experience, didn't always make the best decisions, but he had never endangered someone else with those decisions that were never wise for him. A discreet look at Thor when the Thunderer arrived and any worries he might have had were waylaid by the way Thor met her gaze. History they might have, but hostile they were not.

* * *

When Thor next looked at Natasha, he would have sworn up, down, and sideways that the Widow had teleported to be beside him while still sitting on the counter. The placement of her equipment had only changed distance, but not location and even her posture and movements were the same, yet there she was at his back.

She gave him a smile at the startled look he had shot her and set aside her gun. "Your… _sister_ …seems to have a good grasp of tactics. Far better than I expected for someone out of the Healing field."

Sigyn turned her head and flashed  _her_  a smile that was a little tight, her hand paused in the act of closing around a globe within the hologram. "I  _can_  hear you, dear Widow. If you have questions about me, please refrain from pestering Thor with them. I'm sure you and he have better things to discuss than me."

"Actually, we don't," Natasha returned. "You've taken over analysis of the base that we were supposed to infiltrate and have commandeered our two scientists who understand the mechanics of the machines that we were looking at. So, that leaves us with the option of staring at you or talking. Personally, I'm going to opt for talking if your oh-so-delicate  _hearing_  can handle that." Her smile widened and she leaned forward on until she balanced the majority of her weight on her hands. "Besides, Thor is a big boy. I'm sure he can tell me when to bugger off if he wants to."

"You're welcome to join us," Sigyn pointed out.

"Seeing as I don't understand you when you start talking about fractals and degrees of light, I'm going to have to decline," Natasha said, leaning back again to pick up two pieces of her gun and fitting them together before sliding the barrel home. "I may understand a good deal of science and chemistry, but this is a bit beyond me and I'm inclined to just destroy what the boys point me at."

Sigyn traded a look with Thor, who gave a quick shrug, before she offered, "I could try and break things down into more basic terms if you like. I understand that this is a joint effort for your team and that I  _am_ the interloper."

For a moment, Natasha held the Healer's gaze before she shook her head. "Tempting, but you're making better progress with these two than we were. Maybe afterwards if you're still around we can have a conversation like that, but right now time is of the essence."

She looked at Thor again, but Tony gave her an impatient nudge to turn her attention back to the matter at hand. Pointing at the globe she was holding, he asked, "Molecular reconstruction capabilities, right? That shouldn't be possible at that size. I get the theory behind it, but most of the machinery required for it wouldn't be available at this point in our own engineering history and we're just not able to get things that small or into that shape yet."

"It is possible that Doom has had some form of contact with others that originate from outside this realm," she murmured, turning the object in her hand. Shaking her head and sighing, she admitted, "Without actually holding it, I cannot say for certain which realm it is potentially from, but I can say that this is the most likely object that assisted in such massive cellular reconstruction as we saw in Ser Blake." For a moment, she simply held the object and then released it, realizing that her usefulness was likely at an end. Before she could act on that realization, however, Tony had reached into the hologram and pulled something else forward for her to examine.

Entrenched as she was between the two scientists, she never saw the way that Thor studied her or the relief that seemed to flicker across his features the longer she stayed. Without meaning to, she stayed until it was well past dark and Natasha and Steve had long since abandoned any pretense of understanding what the three of them were saying. At some point, they had even managed to take Thor with them into the upper floors with the lure of food. It wasn't until they were examining the final room that the blueprints detailed that she blinked owlishly and turned to look around the room. Tony and Bruce were standing on different sides of the table from her, occasionally throwing a hologram image at her but otherwise preoccupied with their own detailed observations.

Tony glanced up at her when she didn't respond to his most recent hologram flicked in her direction. Seeing that she was distracted by "They left about two hours ago and returned about twenty minutes ago to retrieve Thor. Did you have a question for them?"

Sigyn turned her attention to him and shook her head slowly. "No. It is…simply that I did not expect to…" she trailed off, uncertain of how to phrase it. Now Bruce was looking at her over the rim of his glasses. She shook her head again, clearing any lingering doubt she might have had. "Forgive me. It is simply that I have not had many opportunities like this over the last decade or so. It is…nice. It's a nice change to be able to speak as we have been."

"You mean using words that have more than two syllables in them?" Bruce asked and returned the smile that she gave.

"Something like that," she chuckled. In truth, the companionship and work had allowed her to forget for a time that everything had changed, but that was not something that she was comfortable sharing with people she had known for less than a day.

Another hour passed before Tony looked at her sidelong and studied her in such a way that had her pausing in the process of identifying something else. "You know," he said, almost casual. "Next time you want company, you don't have to wait for something weird to happen that you feel obligated to bring us. You could just pop by and say hi. Now, this thing you mentioned about a worm hole…" and the abruptness with which he changed subjects made her blink, but she let him talk around the invitation and draw her back into the task at hand. It was, at the least, something to consider.

* * *

Clint stood with his arms crossed and his back to the far wall as Commander Hill tore into one of the newest recruits and delivered a detailed dissection on her recent performance. His own report had been given to her in place of Fury as the SHIELD director had seemingly gone off grid at some point within the last month. There was, he realized, some things that he didn't want to know and this was turning out to be one of them. Already, he was formulating a potential reason as to why he and Nat would be vanishing at some point, but he was coming up with almost nothing that would convince Nat to join him in a self-imposed exile.

Finally, the reprimand was done and Hill had returned to her usual, calm self even if she did appear to be more overworked than was normal for them. "So, Commander," he said and smirked at the title to which she only quirked an eyebrow. "Point. None of us can say you didn't deserve the promotion, but its been a long time coming, is all," he admitted at her continued  _look_. "Back to the original topic, though. I do think that we should continue on with the original instructions and continue our observations. With a little time and effort, I do think she could be made into a permanent asset, more so than Thor."

There was a long silence in which she seemed to really study him and he dropped his gaze from hers after the first couple of moments. "I would have thought-given your experience-that you would have been one of the first people up in arms and screaming for her eviction from our planet. Especially when she's just confirmed one of our long standing theories about her."

He looked at the window at her back instead of directly at her as he chose his words. "My...experience with Loki was unpleasant and it left things that I'm still working on, but I'm not blind to the benefits that we could reap if we had someone like her on our side. If we had had a sorcerer of our own that could teleport like she can, she could have gotten a number of us there in time to join the fight and minimize the damage that was done at Greenwich. Hell, if we'd had someone like her a hundred times over, we could have avoided a lot of unpleasant situations. The X-Men are all well and good, but they can't spare Nightcrawler every time we have a minor disaster."

She continued to study him and then sighed. "Your insights are all very good, but it still doesn't tell me why  _you_  think keeping her around is a good idea."

He glanced up at her and frowned at the look she was pinning him with. "Isn't it enough that I think it is? I passed all of your little tests and jumped through every hoop you asked me to, just to prove I was fit after the battle in New York. You were able to devise detection methods that stopped several other infiltration attempts because of what happened to me and what I was willing to do. Is that not enough?"

Her expression softened a fraction before she glanced out the door of her office again and gained back the usual stern mask she wore. "Under any other circumstances, it would be, but she is Loki's wife and that makes her...well...harder to trust. So is it so hard to believe that I would be curious as to your reasons?"

He sighed and looked out the window again. "No, because there is always the chance she has a method of circumventing our safety measures lime he did." He paused and tried to pull together the instincts he had trusted out on Stark's landing pad. "It's just...I don't trust her, but I don't necessarily mistrust her either." The image of her holding her hand out to him and  _waiting_  seemed to lodge itself in his brain as he recalled everything. "Does that make sense?"

Hill watched him for a long moment before she sighed and said, "Yes, it does. Thank you, Agent. That will be all for now." As he slipped out the door and stepped into the shadows, she considered just how much he had unintentionally told her and decided it would be better for his sanity-and hers-to never mention it. His body language, the phrases he had avoided, and the general speechlessness that had been inspired in him told her that he had found something in Sigyn to identify with and that while Sigyn herself might be approachable he was uncomfortable with the idea of identifying with  _Loki's_  wife. Yes, safer all around that she not mention it.

* * *

When her part of identifying the objects was done, she stood at Donald Blake's side and studied him in the cold room they had left him in. Some small part of her mind tried to lay the blame of his death at her feet, to try and worm doubt into the cracks of her armor, but she ignored the whispers and gathered the man into her arms one last time and tried not to feel how light he was. Another body, another name to add to the list of those she had not been able to save. A list, she knew that would grow for as long as she lived, but no longer brought her to her knees.

As the spell closed around her and she stepped into the darkness between the realms, she called to mind the address that Donald Blake had listed for his next of kin. A sister, the files had detailed, whom he had named as the executor of his will and the only one of his family to have survived everything.

When the spell released her, she stood on the lawn of a single story house that looked no different than the ones on either side-two wide front windows, a front door, rain gutters, a porch, and an overhanging roof that protected the porch's occupants from being rained on.

There was movement within the house, a slight shadow passing just beyond the curtain that fluttered just a little too much for it to have been an accident. She felt her stomach twist in dread even before she took the first step towards the door. For a moment, she considered just laying him there-on the lawn-and leaving, but she steeled herself against the impulse since it would have been disrespectful to both the dead and the living. Instead, she took the first step forward.

When it was done, when the sister had taken custody of her brother's remains and heard the painful truth of what had been done to him, after the hurled accusations and tears, Sigyn stood out on the sidewalk with her hands shoved in her pockets and a heavier heart than she knew what to do with. For a fleeting moment, she recalled the space of the room she had claimed for herself and remembered how very empty it had been, but the memory of the evening she had spent in the Avengers company imposed itself. Almost without conscious thought, she gathered her power around herself and vanished into the space between the realms.

* * *

The shiver of power that ran through the mirror made its owner pause mid-sentence as she was spinning a deal with the dwarves of Nidavellir. With a smile and a promise they would continue later, Amora excused herself and vanished to the place between realms she had crafted for herself. Extracting the item from between her breasts, she palmed the mirror and studied the message that had written itself across the reflective surface and felt her temper spike.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she closed her eyes and sighed. Of  _course_  the fool had acted too soon and sprung the trap before its time. One plan foiled by the incompetence of a supposed ally. All that remained for her to do was salvage what she could and leave the rest to the imagination of those involved.

* * *

The flight to the warehouse they were raiding was filled with mostly silence on his end of the comms and the chatter of the others as they decided on a last minute detail for approaching the building. With his suit lighter and the power of his thrusters, he reached the warehouse first and did a lap around it as he activated the suit's stealth mode and ran a half dozen different scans. The first thing that caught his interest was the different energy signatures radiating from the building. Privately, he was impressed with the way Jarvis had incorporated some of his ideas for detecting the things they were clearing out, but to Jarvis he said, "Think we'd get in trouble for starting the party without them?"

"I would advise against that course of action, sir," Jarvis warned as he read his creator's change in flight.

"Lighten up, J, and point me in the right direction for the first thing!" he told the AI before dropping out of the cloud cover to race towards the closest point. It was, he later realized, probably not the smartest decision he had ever made, but-then-hindsight was always perfect.

* * *

The spell released its hold on her in the exact spot she had originally brought Clint to. The roaring of winds and the screaming of metal engines had her hastily teleporting to the other side of the landing pad where she watched a large plan land with her back pressed to the door.

She blinked at the sight of the back dropping to allow the Avengers to limp down the ramp. Natasha was the first out, her head turned so she could watch Thor's path after her. The sight of Thor carrying Tony's limp, red and gold armored body had her stepping forward. Natasha caught her arm and tried to push her back, but Sigyn shrugged the gesture off even as she raised her hands and called power to her fingertips. Thor barely broke stride as she fell into step beside him and her power highlighted the outline of Tony's body within the suit and the way that the metal cracked and bent around him.

Thor made straight for the table and cleared the decorations from its surface as he settled Tony's still form onto it. She touched three points of the armor at the right hip and both shoulders. "Crack. Don't remove. What happened?"

"Skurge," Thor told her as he dropped his hammer to the floor and fulfilled her order. The metal parted with a reluctant sound "He singled out the Man of Iron while I dealt with Amora and the others took care of the items."

"Physical  _and_  spell or just physical?" she asked as Steve and Bruce circled around to watch and hover uncertainly. Clint and Natasha lingered for a moment and then-as if by a silent consensus-both vanished into the tower to grad medical supplies.

"Both. Amora wasn't wholly focused on me," Thor told her as he dug his fingers into the cracks.

She slapped his hands away and gently pushed him to the side before she rapped a knuckle against his own armor. "Internal  _injuries_ , Thor. His armor is far more dangerous than yours to remove."

Before she could so much as touch him again, the helm released and came loose. She glanced at the ceiling as she removed it. "Scans indicate a thirty percent decrease in oxygen circulating through his blood," came the AIs cool voice. "As well, I detect that his left femoral artery has been punctured by the internal pieces of the suit that were jarred loose."

She stepped around the table to look at his left leg and run a finger lightly over the indent. When she drew her hand away, the outline she had been working with was drawn up and away from him to hover almost like a hologram. Stripping away the top layer of the suit, she asked, "Can you interact with this kind of energy and pinpoint his injuries? The bleeding has been staunched, but I want your input before we move forward."

There was a pause, the flashing of a thin, red beam of light that rippled through the image she had conjured, and then Jarvis answered, "Yes, I can manipulate the hologram. Give me a moment to translate my information over to it."

As the AI and Healer worked to build a map of Tony's injuries and areas of concern, Thor had to blink at the strangeness of the situation. He had seen her work with other Healers and their own forms of technology before, but he had never before witnessed the combined effort of sentient technology and Sigyn's own healing gift. It was, he decided, a strange event unlikely to have occurred anywhere else.

When she touched one part of the hologram and posed another question, Jarvis answered it, and she nodded her acknowledgement before she curved her hand around one of the gauntlets and pulled it away without touching it. At Jarvis' direction and using the hologram they had built, Sigyn dismantled the parts of the suit that would not harm Tony in their removal. Dropping each piece to the side with a quick flick of power, she continued the process until they had completely stripped what they could.

Looking at him with just the body suit and the six pieces of embedded metal, she was suddenly glad that he had remained unconscious the entire time. Two femoral punctures in the left leg, a puncture that slid between his ribs and confirmed the readings of a damaged lung, and two, long metal pieces lodged between the cartilage of his fingers. For an Aseir, it would have been enough to have them screaming with the pain, but Tony had only been rendered unconscious.

Passing a hand through the hologram again, she dismissed the representation of the armor and said, quietly, "Your creator is resilient, Jarvis,  _very_  resilient." Her fingers danced through the chest area of the hologram, adding a dozen pinpoints of light as her magic coursed through Tony and snagged against certain points. "These are wounds, but not. Shards of the suit that must have been small enough to travel through the blood. They're…" She hesitated and looked up at the ceiling. "In anyone else, the path they must have taken would have killed anyone else, but I can find no correlating internal injuries. If they move any further, though, they will cut into his heart and kill him."

There was a pause, like the AI was weighing his words. "Mr. Stark  _is_  very resilient, however those shards are not from today's incursion. They are a few years older than that." Most eyes turned towards the ceiling and blinked slowly, like they were processing some sort of information. Natasha, though, gave Sigyn a tight look that was full of consideration and more than a little suspicious.

She processed the information, adjusted the spell and found the scar tissues that crisscrossed through Tony's chest and her expression became carefully blank. "Very well. In any case, the main concern right now is the lung." The look she gave Thor, standing where he was at Tony's head, was one of a considering nature. "Thor, you're going to have to step back. Your strength here could be more of a hindrance than a help. For this, I need Clint and Natasha." Her gaze turned to the two assassins as she asked, "Will you help?"

They had started moving before she finished and positioned themselves to either side of Tony's shoulders as Thor reluctantly stepped back. Bruce made a motion like he wanted to step forward, but stopped when Steve cast him a  _look_. Unaware that anything had happened behind her back, Sigyn tore the body suit across Tony's chest and touched the raw skin where the shard had slipped between his ribs to damage his lung and called to hand another spell.

Somewhere between the dying afternoon and the beginning of evening, between the healing and the stemming of blood loss, Tony woke with the pain and had to be held down as Sigyn picked up the pace of her casting. Instead of screaming as she might have expected, his hands curled around Natasha and Clint's arms as his nails dug into the skin and soft grunts escaped him when he tensed.

* * *

Through it all, Jarvis monitored both his creator's vitals and the energy levels of the healer even as he kept in reserve one of the suits. All research and developing estimates aside, she was still an unknown that he couldn't quite account for.

* * *

When it was done and the final spell settled into place to stitch the skin and muscle and bones back together, Sigyn stepped back and allowed Tony's teammates to close around him. It wasn't until the world spun around her and Thor's heavy hand steadied her that she realized just how much energy she had expended. A superstitious touch of her fingers to her neck confirmed the clamminess that she felt.

"You are well?" Thor rumbled quietly as Steve lifted Tony into his arms and stepped away from the table.

She could only make a noncommittal sound before her knees buckled and the world whited out around her. It was odd, she thought, that Thor should be the one to catch her. Her last coherent understanding of the world was the vertical lift of strong arms and the familiar tone of Thor's voice as he spoke. For once,  _for once_ , she let go.


	8. Waking

The first thing she was aware of when she woke was the fact that the sun was warm across her face slanting in from floor to ceiling windows to her left. The second thing she realized was that the room was unfamiliar. It was in the absence of sound as much as the smell of it. Then, there was the sound that _was_ present. Light breathing, like someone else was in the room with her and waiting for her to wake. It wasn’t Thor’s usual labored breathing when he was asleep. This was someone else entirely. Had she been wrong to trust the Avengers even to this extent? Had they turned her over? She did not blame them for defending their realm, never had, but she was still Loki’s wife and that meant…

She opened her eyes and blinked as they were suffused with a bright, blue light that passed over her face and then back down before vanishing. “Jarvis,” she murmured, wary. “Why are you scanning me?”

“My apologies, Ms. Sigyn. I was simply taking your vitals and measuring the progress in the return of your powers,” Jarvis said and the knot of tension only coiled further.

Her head was still tilted up as she pushed herself into a sitting position, looking to the section of ceiling where Jarvis’ voice seemed to emanate. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the human shift, but she ignored him for a moment. First, the easy question. “I am alright, but thank you, Jarvis. How fares Tony? Have the spells done their work?”

Jarvis seemed to hesitate and it only served to put her further on edge. Her hair was matted with sweat still and her power responded sluggishly to her probs. Neither made her inclined to trust her circumstances. “He is as well as can be expected,” Jarvis answered finally.

“He will be recovering far better than expected because his device drew from me my power,” she murmured. “It will be mimicking the frequencies of energy that I used in healing him.” It was half accusation, half statement. She had _trusted_ where she perhaps should not have.

There was another pause and she managed to fully extricate herself from the blankets, most of her attention still focused on the AI and only part on the human she had realized was _the archer_. It cast a bitter taste to her mouth in the wake of things. So perfectly poised to appeal to her, that thrum of _power_ that was _Loki’s._ He was watching her from a chair he had curled up in, blinking slowly against the sleep she must have roused him from. “They are indeed doing that. All scans indicate that the spells that you used are still active despite your having been unconscious for the last two hours. I confess myself uncertain as to how this happened. The Arc Reactor is meant to be a source of energy, not a battery that is recharged when it comes into contact with another energy source.”

Away. _Get away._ Away. Loki’s voice hummed through her, _pushing_ her towards escape, but she held her ground for just that moment. One last question, one last chance for misplaced trust. “Do you mean to _keep_ me? As a pet? An enigma to study?”

“No.” It was too cold, too _distant,_ and it was the archer talking to her now, uncoiling from his place and moving towards her. “You are your own person.”

She grinned then and it was all sharp, bitter edges and tired pain. “You need not _lie_ , Hawk. The light was a trap. You and yours do not mean to let me go,” she hissed, shifting suddenly to throw herself into a roll across the floor. What magic she could call, she threw before her as she hit the windows where the sun shone through. What little resistance there was, she broke through and fell among the glittering shards that rushed before her to the concrete so far below.

It became her goal, her focus. _Away_ , Loki’s voice hummed to her. **_Away_** _._

Her world narrowed to the tumbling, _rushing howl_ of the air and the grey, rushing world below. For just a moment, she remembered _Loki_ , then the freefall caught her and she _screamed_ even as she reached for _something_ and it responded.

* * *

 

In retrospect, Amora realized, she really should have been prepared for this…well, something _like_ this. She had still been nursing her own wounds from the encounter with the Avengers and had dismissed Skurge back to his own pursuits and healing while she had worked renewing her protective spells. And really, it was _because_ she had been working on reweaving her spells that it had been possible for another’s magic to find weakness in her wards and exploit them in an explosive manner that caught her off guard.

The aftereffects left Amora thrown to the other side of the room, half the furniture reduced to ash, and an impact against the stone floor that left her home shuddering with the force. When she had finally regained enough sense, she staggered to her feet and threw out several spells that came back with…nothing. There was no threat, no active spells, no sign of life through the smoke and the slight crater, but she could pick out the dark edges of a form through the haze and she could see it wasn’t moving.

A spell to clear the air and another to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating and she was lurching forward, her breath coming faster. _No,_ some part of her conscious mind howled beneath the sudden terror.

* * *

 

Clint stood before the shattered window and broken shards of glass and blinked at it in dismay. He stepped forward and stared over the edge, unsurprised there was nothing save the grey of the city below and the sunlight reflecting off nearby windows. “I didn’t realize she was _that_ paranoid,” he remarked to Jarvis. For his part, Jarvis didn't reply.

* * *

 

Amora wasn’t sure how it happened, was only sure of the staggered movement of her body, but she was on her knees beside the familiar body, reaching out with fingers already lit with magic. She jerked her hand back when the magic relayed a familiar pattern, when it told her that it recognized the lingering marks of power within the body.

“ _Sigyn_ ,” she moaned and felt her magic crawling against her skin, responding to distress and fear. When it leapt for the still form beside her, there was no thought, no conscious motivation as it took hold, only the burning _desire_ for her sister to _live_. She wasn’t ready yet to sever ties, wasn’t ready to give her over to Hela and Death. There were things _unsaid,_ things _undone._

Her vision blurred as she touched Sigyn’s face, turned her head towards her and felt the stuttered breath she drew in at the wide-eyed glassy look fixed on her sister’s face. Not long dead. Not long enough to the muscles to lose their ability to freely move. _“Sigyn_ , no,” she moaned again and curled herself around Sigyn’s body, cradling her sister’s head in her lap and hunching over her. “ _No._ Not yet.” More power crawled between them, _seeking_ , and tears blurred Amora’s vision as her spells dug deep.

Moments measured by heartbeats and tear tracks ticked by until they became minutes and the forcing of her lungs to accept oxygen. Quiet grief turned to heartache turned to the shattering and reforming of plans for vengeance turned to the shaking of hands and shoulders as she sobbed turned to the quick inhalation as another’s lungs inflated and a hand flew up to grasp her wrist.

“ _Sigyn,”_ came the quiet sob and the linking of power between them as it tugged and ebbed and sought to repair damage done. "Sigyn." And this time, it was a sound tinged by as much relief as sorrow.

* * *

The first real suspicion to be thrown on the Healer since Thor had warned them away from her came when SHIELD suffered a breach of security in the form of a hack, a break in at the Sandbox, and the discovery that three of their agents were compromised. There was only one thing taken from their stores in the Sandbox was the scepter that Loki had used to lead his failed invasion. An image of her was captured on the security feeds as she used it to escape, after she had used it to turn the agents to her will. After she had vanished from the scene, after she had gotten clean away and Hill was fighting off a migrain, the Avengers  were called back together from their various locations in the world. Thor was there, softly but steadily arguing with the Director that, “She would not do this. I know her. She would not do this. It is beneath her to act in such petty ways.”

“Then name someone else who could look like her and breach a supposedly _one-hundred percent_ **_secure_** location like that!” Hill had snarled back, pointing at the footage frozen on Sigyn looking more than a little maniac. “Face up, Thor! She’s finally shown her hand! It’s time to bring her in or bring her down!”

Thor continued to defend her, but it was Tony that provided the first reasonable doubt that SHIELD was forced to consider. Despite Jarvis’ insistence that he stay behind this time, he had come. Hell, he felt better now than he had since before the incident with the Mandrin. Over the course of the two sided argument, he had been flicking through his tablet as Jarvis continued to feed him information and scans taken since Sigyn had crashed through one of his windows (nope, no guilt there whatsoever over the misunderstanding. None! Really, it was _hardly_ his fault that the Arc Reactor worked better than he had anticipated and it opened a whole new set of questions and variables for him...not the point. Back to topic.)

Settling on one item of interest in particular, he stood and slid it across the table to Hill, ignoring the odd looks he was getting from the others. “Stop bitching and take a look at this. Look, you one-eyed-pirate-stand-in,” Tony snapped when Hill just gave him a suspicious look. “Just _look_ at it. It’s a scan that Jarvis took of her power after she healed me. There’s a whole series of them. Flip to the next set and you’ll find a couple Jarvis took on Loki and Thor back during the invasion.” He waited for Hill to do so and then waited for her to blink at the results and projections. “The healing that she did drained her substantially and she was hardly recovered when she left the Tower yesterday. At this point, I think its safe to assume she’s probably still unconscious and still recovering herself.” He glanced at Thor. “Can she clone herself?”

Thor had to think about it for a moment. “No. That is not one of the abilities that she displayed during her time in Asgard. She has trouble taking even the form of another. No, it does not suit her talents, this robbery.”

Tony nodded at that. To Hill’s skeptical look he said, “This fits what we know about her. I’m inclined to say Thor is correct and that she’s in hiding while she recovers herself. We’ve probably got a teleporting, shape-shifter maniac on our hands,” he stated and then paused. They all paused and looked sidelong at Thor, the same thought crossed their minds: _Loki_. Thor just gritted his teeth and looked away.

“Loki was not the only one capable of these feats. He was simply the best known sorcerer for using them. Amora also possesses these abilities. She cannot teleport quite so well across dimensions as Loki and Sigyn could, but it is a close enough fit,” he said, not even thinking twice about the information given.

The tablet blinked again and updated to a new photo of her. Hill felt the headache spike at the coordinates that Stark’s AI was giving them. Turning to her own agents, she barked off a series of commands that had the Avengers watching her curiously. The results came back with terrifying speed and she took only a moment to listen to them before she had dismissed the SHIELD agent and turned back to the Avengers who were no longer watching her. Stark had since taken the tablet back and was occupied by something with his fingers flying across the screen and the other Avengers crowded around him. Thor’s pinched expression told her all she needed to know about what held their attention. Bruce pointed at something on the screen, Steve muttered something to Clint and Natasha who-in their turn-nodded and turned from the others with only a quick glance at Hill.

Bruce tilted his head and stood a little closer to Tony’s side as he watched the live feed Tony had hacked. “I’d say she’s calling a lot of attention to this rather quickly. Any indication as to what it is she’s trying to do?”

Tony glanced at Hill. “Jarvis has a live feed on her. She’s taken over a local book store and is making the staff give out free coffee. Its middle of the city and the...soceress?..." this was directed at Thor, who shook his head and supplied "Enchantress." Tony continued with a nod of thanks at the Thunderer, "Enchantress, then. The Enchantress is in plain view on the emergency escape ladders connected to the building. There’s quite a crowd…and I haven’t the faintest fucking clue what she’s trying to accomplish with it. The last time we went against her, she was paired with Doom and they put up one hell of a nasty fight over their toys.”

 Thor was still staring at the screen on which they could see the crowd trying to push themselves into some semblance of order and… _amicably…_ arguing when someone stepped on someone else’s foot. Meanwhile, Amora/Sigyn paced on the rooftop and eyed the population below her while she rolled the scepter between her hands. Jarvis shifted the view to another streetlight corner and Thor blinked at the change, but his eyes only sought Amora/Sigyn again.

“Big guy?” Tony asked.

“Tis unusually calm for her,” he commented.

“Yeah, I got the feeling _last_ time that she was more the stab and laugh than the ‘Look at me!’ type,” Tony said dryly. “Despite her conspicuous outfit, of course.”

Something flickared on the screen and Tony turned his attention back to it. The image of Sigyn dropped away and Amora revealed herself to their eyes, idly leaning against the railing of the escape ladders while she watched the milling crowds below and rolled the sceptre between her palms. Then, her eyes flicked to the camera Jarvis had hacked and Tony felt his skin crawl at the way she seemed to meet his eyes through the screen. There was no amusement to her features, no seductive smile curving her lips, just a flickering kind of emotion he almost didn't want to name even as it stirred memories of the _Ten Rings_ and _Obadiah._ A deep seated kind of rage that had settled into her bones and she was inviting them out with it.

"Well," Tony remarked. "Let's not keep the lady waiting, shall we?"

                                                                                                                                      


	9. Chapter 9

Amora was still leaning against the fire escape, rolling the sceptre between her palms when she heard the sound of an approaching plane. She glanced up in time to see the Avenger's plane vanish behind one of the taller buildings. Her lips thinned as she considered them.

Another time, any other day, and she would have followed the obvious ploy and engaged them simply for the amusement of tearing their trap apart and turning it against them. But this wasn't any other day. This wasn't even anything that she had planned. It wasn't how she had wanted to take the sceptre, hadn't been how she wanted to use it, but…

She hadn't meant for her sister to die, either. She hadn't meant to be the one to save the other woman or secret Sigyn's unconscious form away into one of her own safe zones, surrounded and protected by every defensive spell she had ever crafted. It wasn't how she had wanted to face Thor again, but...this took precedence and if they had hurt her...

The sound of air being compressed and cycled told her who had found her first before she saw the armor. His presence made her skin crawl where before it had not. She swung her gaze around to him and stared. There was power crawling beneath his skin that was familiar in a way that made her angle her body toward him and smile sharply.

“My, my, if it isn’t the Man of Iron,” she purred at him. “Aren’t you up and running around rather fast?” Skurge had done a number on him and he was human fragile, no matter the quality of his intellect.

He was hovering nearly three hundred feet from her, assessing her the way she was him. “What can I say? I’ve got a short refractory period. Now, hand over the toy you took and we can discuss a nice little cell for you.”

Her laugh was almost as sharp as her smile. For once, it wasn't Thor that held her attention, even as she was aware of his approach. This _mortal_ held Sigyn’s power. Sigyn, who should have been safe among them. Sigyn, who had died and needed _her_ power to be revitalized. This mortal, with his armor and technology, had taken from her what even Asgard could not and she had no answers that fit neatly anywhere.

_Except…_

She looked at the sceptre in her hands, considering the gravity of her next words. There could be no coyness to hide the nature of them, the weight they needed to carry. “The skills of a sorceress-healer are priceless beyond measure,” she began. “And the woman they belong to is more precious than even that.” She looked up then, her expression cold. “She has done no harm to you and yours. In fact, she has helped you in more ways than one. Her honor is without reproach and you harmed her. You took what should not have been taken. Why?”

It was a risk and he knew that the team would chew on him for it later, but he disengaged the thrusters and dropped heavily to the roof. Amora was up and running too soon after their last fight and _none of this_ fit into her usual patterns. With her attention so wholly focused on him, too, it would let the others quietly evacuate the area and deal with those under the scepter’s influence.

“You’re not actually sure of that, though. Why else leave the bulldozer out of it and draw us out using something that could have done a lot more damage with than you did?”

Amora was staring at the sceptre again, expression torn between hate and longing. “She would hate me were I to use it for worse, Stark,” she admitted softly. “Sigyn can undo what was done to them and I have done them no lasting harm as was done the last time it was used. It was...an effective lure. Tell me the why and I _might_ return it.”

He briefly considered the merits of a lie, but she was an Enchantress holding a powerfully magical item that had already been shown to be a destructive piece of _shit_. And...there was apparently _something_ between her and Signy as raw and untouched as Loki’s death between Thor and Sigyn. What _was_ it about the woman that attracted such varying characters and held them in her gravity?

She spun the scepter and glanced down to find that the humans in the general area had been evacuated. They were taking up their positions to close their little trap on her. It had to be soon or she would lose her window of opportunity.

“You’re right. I shouldn't have been up and running so soon,” he admitted slowly, taking in the readings and updates Jarvis was feeding him. Another minute and they would be ready. “She healed the damage your little boyfriend did. What we didn't expect was for her magic to react to my tech.”

Amora glanced sideways at him then, studying the Arc Reactor and the suit. It made a stilted kind of sense, even to her. Magic was a kind of bioelectricity and combined with the right kind of tech... well, Doom had proven _that_ could be an effective combo. And now it was something to watch out for.

“I think...I believe you,” she said, smiling sharply again. “Hurt her again, in any fashion, and I will eradicate an entire city as recompense.” Then, between one blink and the next, she teleported and barely avoided the missiles that had been trained in her.

She rematerialized in the center of a grand bedroom filled with bright colors and soft furniture. In the center of the opulent four poster, a dark-haired woman lay quietly within the cocoon of blankets, unusually still but for her regular breathing. Parting the curtains, she stared down at her sister for a long minute, committing every detail of her features to memory before she laid the scepter at Sigyn’s side and then let the curtain fall again.

Everything of relative importance had been removed from the safe room and secreted away to another location better suited to her needs. Sigyn was, as far as she could tell, simply resting and recovering her strength at this point. Anything else she could do _had_ been done and it was up to Sigyn to do the rest and heal. That didn't stop the hard knot of worry that bad settled in her stomach, but it also didn't make her any more willing to stay with the other woman in her most vulnerable hour as she remembered the other times that Sigyn had been vulnerable and hidden herself away.

With a final, feather-light touch of her fingers to her sister's cheek, she straightened and let the curtains fell back into place. Whatever came next, Sigyn could take care of herself and a dangerous, magical item was in the bands of someone who would wield it wisely. Still, it was with an unusual kind of reluctance that she gathered her magic and teleported away to finish gathering her own strength

* * *

Tony was leaning against the desk with his palms flat on its surface as he studied the video of his healing once more. He had lost track of the number of times he had seen it, trying to understand what had happened in those minutes. The Arc Reactor had never taken in energy before this, before _her_. It wasn't _meant_ to absorb _magic._

Every scan he and Jarvis could think of together had been run and they all came back the same. Physically, he was _fine_ , if a little stressed. _Nothing_ could read the energy that had been sucked up from Sigyn.

_But…_

Clint was still watching him funny and Amora had identified him first over Thor, _like there was something there._ He straightened and cracked his neck, rubbing at the sore muscles and still eyeing the video as her hands lit with the glow of a spell.

There was nothing else to it. He’d have to make something new, something that would be able to detect _magic_ the way that other magic users could. “How much coffee is left, Jarvis?” he asked, eyeing his workbench.

There was a pause that had Tony blinking and looking around. “I do not believe that would be a wise idea, at this point, sir.”

“Why?” he asked suspiciously.

“We appear to have an... _unexpected_...visitor.”


End file.
